


Toward Hidden Horizons

by kinaesthetic



Series: Take to the Skies [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, F/F, Multi, Soft and Fluffy, Wingfic, You decide!, and as useless as a ukelele on a unicycle, both of the A's in Angela stand for anxious, bring out the celebratory vuvuzelas, but we love them anyway, domestic fluff is the mood for april, everyone is dumb and i love them, everyone is nervous useless and dumb, flustered as a flock of finches in a flurry, goddamnit angela is the mantra of the birdfam, grab some water because fareeha's back at it with the fire puns, if you think fareeha's not paying attention well ive got news for you, officially labeled as slow burn and mutual pining, okay ladies now let's get real domestic, one of the A's might stand for AGoddamnGayDisaster, satya is a sapphic disaster, she's trying her best okay she gets a gold star, the lot of them, warning for second embarassment and anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-14 21:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 61,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13599195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinaesthetic/pseuds/kinaesthetic
Summary: It's been nearly two months since Angela grew a pair of bird wings, a fantastical by-product of modern science. Amazed but unperturbed, Satya adapted, content to fulfill a role in Angela and Fareeha's lives and assist her friends however she could.When Angela insists upon reasserting her independence, Satya feels the strain more than either of the Amaris.Sometimes, things must shake before they can settle.





	1. halcyon

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for sticking with me so long! If you're new to Take to the Skies, welcome! You're gonna wanna read the past two installments first; if I could do them justice in a summary, I would. <3
> 
> One of my main desires for this installment is to make it a lot less Angela-narrated. Don't worry! She's still around. We'll be seeing _much_ more of Satya and Fareeha for a while though and we'll see Angela through their eyes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _adj. a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful_  
>   
>  In hindsight, no good day starts off with this many anomalies.

_August 26th, 2077_

Satya wakes a hour before her alarm usually rings. She awakens all at once, from unconscious to conscious in a span of mere seconds. Her dreams slip out of her thoughts, like oiled fish on a tarp, leaving her with the impression of soft colors and distant music, but nothing else. She lays in bed motionless, eyes closed and body perfectly drawn into a fetal position. Without opening her eyes, she wiggles her toes and ankles, fingers and wrists. Both pairs respond with enthusiasm, so she opens her eyes.

The summer dawn typically does not wake her and yet, it appears that the stream of sunlight on her face has done just that. She blinks sleepily, eyes focusing on the individual motes of dust that filter past her eyelashes. It’s then that she realizes the sunshine has an accomplice: the silence.

The silence of her room sings to her ears as she strains to hear anything but the absence of her white noise. The little machine makes for a paltry replacement for the ocean’s waves, but such is the trouble with having a room on the inner wall of the hallway. However, it is always better than the silence.

Satya rolls to her back then stares at the ceiling, considering her options. If she gets up to fix the machine, she may not be able to get back to sleep. If she does nothing, she will not be able to get back to sleep.

“A 25% chance of sleeping at all,” she murmurs to no one but herself, as she often does when she’s alone. “A 40% chance of laying awake in peace, a 30% chance of laying in bed, vexed, and 5% chance of something entirely different.”

It’s not much of a choice; there are both too many variables and too many outcomes to make it worth trying. So Satya sits up, pushes her heavy comforter to the side and swings her feet over the bed’s edge. The small plush carpet sinks under her feet and she sits there for a few moments, just wiggling her toes through the microfiber tassels. On her bedside table, her white noise machine sits innocuously, its white and chrome casing shining the light from the closest window. She grabs it, turning it over and over in her hands. By all accounts, it seems functional. The time is correct, the speaker functions, and when she presses the preset-timer button, it displays that the sound of lapping waves will remain on until six tomorrow morning.

Placing the clock in her lap, Satya reaches for her left palm by force of habit, already thinking of constructing a small screwdriver to dismantle the machine. She hisses softly as her organic fingers collide with the brown enamel surface of her cosmetic prosthetic.

The white noise alarm clock will have to wait.

With all this thinking and contemplating, Satya resigns herself to simply being awake. She gathers clothes for after her shower, selecting a soft pair of grey pants and a simple sleeveless blue blouse and draping them over her desk chair. She opens the windows, then rolls out her mat to do her stretches.

After years of practice, the yoga poses come naturally to her, less of a stretch and more of a comfort to feel her body obey her every command. Arching her back, twisting her core, contorting her arms, and extending her legs to their full length, Satya breathes deeply with each movement, counting to herself to keep the rhythm. Each pose flows into another and another; it’s a dance all on its own. When she finally finishes the half-hour routine, Satya smiles, hardly out of breath.

Before entering the shower, Satya disconnects her cosmetic prosthetic from her shoulder, massaging the skin where it’s been covered all night. She places the arm on its charging stand just outside the bathroom door, next to her everyday hard-light prosthetic.

She runs the water in the shower until the temperature and pressure are perfect, then steps into the spray. She starts with shampooing and conditioning her hair, then washing her body, then rinsing conditioner from her hair. The process is a highly optimized one, resulting in no more than a 20-minute shower. Once she steps out and dries off, she combs and moisturizes her hair, then applies face moisturizer, makeup, body lotions, a light perfume, and finally underwear. By the time she steps out of the bathroom, her room has acclimated to the balmy outside temperature.

With practiced motions, Satya disconnects the hard-light prosthetic from its port, lines up the circuits of the residual portion of her left arm with the those of the prosthetic, hissing slightly as it reconnects. She holds it in place as it hangs loosely, blinking orange as it recalibrates. The whole process takes no more than two minutes and the arm glows blue when it’s done. She stretches briefly, then spins a few test strings out of the hard-light well in the center of her palm. Her gaze catches the white noise machine which lies discarded on the bed.

A small screwdriver is in her hand before she even truly thinks about it. Climbing back onto the bed, she tucks her legs underneath her and dismantles the machine in no time at all, muttering to herself about components and connections. She finds the loose one and soon has an assortment of clamps, picks, and other small tools created to fix it. When she finally puts the clock back together and resets it, there’s still about a half hour left before she would have ordinarily left her room and gone to breakfast. She looks down, surprised to realize she’s still wearing just her bra and underwear.

“That makes twice now that you’ve interrupted my day.” Satya sets the repaired white-noise alarm down and considers it. Perhaps it’s simply getting old. Pushing the thought from her mind, she dresses in her clothes, gathers her phone, a pair of headphones and some sandals, then steps out of her room.

The silence of the sleeping base is not as loud as that of her room, but she slips on her headphones over her ears anyway. Once the headset pairs with her phone, she flips through her morning playlist until she finds precisely the song she wants, then sets off down the hallway, intent on taking a leisurely walk.

Most of the domestic sector of the base is quaintly renovated, mostly by those who answered the recall before Satya ever arrived. Both floors, including all recreation and entertainment centers, the main and auxiliary kitchens, and all of the bedrooms, have a comforting feel to them, even when they’re empty and lit by early dawn light as they are now. As she goes up one flight of stairs and down another, she keeps an eye on the time. It won’t do to go too far from the kitchen, so she heads to the medical and research wing, passing through the defunct canteen and administrative offices. She sees only Winston briefly as she passes by his lab and the simian scientist waves to her. She returns the gesture and continues her walk, exiting the base proper as she passes through the medical wing.

As the door slides shut behind her, Satya breathes deeply, consulting her phone for the time and tugging her headset down to her shoulders. From here, she can hear waves crashing against the cliffs and tastes the remnants of a salty mist. Having taken a moment, she constructs her tablet and strides over to one of the smaller base buildings, pulling up notes on its construction from several months ago. As she pushes open the cracked door, she’s reminded of when fixing portions of the watchpoint infrastructure was her sole responsibility. Quite frankly, the project of hers has been gathering metaphorical dust for quite some time.

_Perhaps this was the reason I woke so early._

Judging from her blueprints, this building originally served as a warehouse for the nearby medical facilities. Therefore, the first task would be to restore the AI interface for Athena, then fix the vent system so the building could be cooled for delicate storage. Satya holds out her left palm, letting it light the way around the abandoned building.

Up in the rafters, she spots a rather messy nest. She follows a falling feather down to the floor below, where droppings and shreds of nesting materials make a small mosaic on the concrete floor. After several moments of silence, gentle cooing starts up once more. As Satya steps away from the door, two turtle doves zip out of the warehouse, their wings slapping noisily as they make their escape.

Reminded of her _typical_ morning routine, Satya checks the time yet again, then ventures further into the storage building, examining the damage, noting structural imbalances, and sketching the contents on her tablet. She inventories about a quarter of the contents then resolves to return sometime later in the day to finish. For now, she drags the defunct door shut, leaving a crack for the doves, and makes her way back to the kitchen.

When Satya peeks around the corner of the kitchen doorway, she spots Angela leaning over the counter, watching the coffee machine fill her mug. Satya clears her throat and the medic straightens up, turning to her with a smile.

“Good morning, Satya,” she says. “Kettle’s on for you. Fareeha’s in the shower but I was thinking yogurt, berries, and toast?”

“For myself perhaps.” She raises her eyebrows at Angela, making a beeline for the sink and washing her hands. “Surely, you wouldn’t suggest something like that for yourself.”

“Well, no” Angela rolls her eyes as Satya grabs her mug and the canister of dried hibiscus blossoms. “I’m having steamed kale and three boiled eggs as well. And I already took my supplements.”

_That’s surprising._

Satya’s expression must betray her thoughts because Angela pouts. “Don’t look so surprised. I am _trying,_ you know.”

“I do know that. You’re doing very well,” Satya reaches over her shoulder and loosely braids her hair. She manages to keep a straight face as Angela fluffs up at the praise. “May I?”

“Certainly, Ibis.”

Satya scratches Angela’s wings on the way to the pantry for the honey and on the way back to kettle and on the way to the fridge for fruit. She’s not exactly checking for oily, unpreened patches, but she does notice there are none. It allows her to focus much more on the softness of the feathers and Angela’s progressively happier humming.

By the time Fareeha walks in, Angela’s sitting at the breakfast bar, adding seasoning onto her kale and peeling her eggs. Instead of making a beeline for her girlfriend, Fareeha grabs the toast that pops out of the toaster.

“You have excellent timing.” Without the toast to carry, Satya carries the yogurt, fruit, and bowls to the bar, setting them in the middle of the granite counter top. Fareeha follows suit with the toast. When Satya turns around to retrieve her cooling tea from the counter, she spots Ana in the doorway. It’s such a surprise that Satya actually stops in her tracks.

“Am I not allowed to have breakfast with the young birds anymore?” Ana smirks when Fareeha yelps in surprise at the sound of her mother's voice; Satya can’t help but feel satisfied with such a response. 

“You haven't had breakfast with us for weeks!” 

“I asked her to stop by for a moment.” Angela’s voice is calm, threaded with a hint of amusement that makes Satya’s stomach churn uncomfortably. Trying to ignore the growing stack of oddities, she retrieves her own mug and prepares one for Ana, selecting her favorite tea out of habit. When she finally does arrive back at the breakfast bar, the older Amari has taken the third stool from the dining room side of the room and placed it on the kitchen side.

Satya takes a deep breath and creates a stool across from Fareeha, who gives her an apologetic look. She slides the mug toward Ana, who accepts it with quiet thanks. There’s a pregnant pause as the three of them assemble their breakfasts. Peeling the last of her eggs, Angela takes a deep breath, then finally speaks.

“If I promise to take care of myself, will the three of you allow me to come to you when I need help, rather than you come to me? Just for a week? I need… I just need to be better at knowing when I need your help. I'm more than capable of managing my health and being back in the field just makes me realize that I should have been doing that anyway. I’ll call when I need you, I promise. But for now...”

As if she has not dropped the equivalent of a small bomb, Angela nibbles on her egg and twirls her kale with her fork. Ana straightens up with a delighted grin. Fareeha frowns. Satya keeps her face carefully neutral, but she can’t help her eyes widening in dismay. Angela’s words echo in her head until the cacophony transforms into an unbearable ‘ _leave me alone’._ It takes a herculean effort to listen to Angela’s next words and not her own treacherous thoughts.

“Am I misguided in thinking that the three of you spend too much time with me?”

“Not at all,” Ana chirps just as Fareeha says, “Severely.”

Satya looks between the Amaris but says nothing. _How can you spend too much time with someone who isn’t unpleasant to be around?_

“Mom-“

“When the last time either of you did something that wasn’t revolving around Angela?” Ana’s eye sparkles with a challenge. “Missions don’t count.”

Fareeha purses her lips, clearly thinking hard. Satya has no trouble finding examples, but her throat closes up. A few days ago, her and Mei made dinner. Yesterday, she’d played chess with Jesse. She knows for a fact that Fareeha, Zarya, Lucio, and Lena popped over to Spain last week. Between social things like that and missions, there’s plenty of time in between. Of course, they spend much of that time with Angela. If Angela can’t leave the base, then what else would they-

Ana’s delighted tone cuts through the silence and Satya’s racing thoughts. “I thought so. Angela, might I remind you that your track record surviving without us is spotty at best. Don’t make us regret this.”

Fareeha draws in a deep breath, but Ana cuts her off again. “I, for one, don't mind the time off. I’m sure that these two will survive just the same.”

The older woman nods approvingly while Fareeha grimaces at both her girlfriend and her mother. Ana smiles, reaching across the table to pat her daughter’s hand.

Satya nods mechanically as a stone settles in her stomach. Perhaps it was simply a morning of interruptions.

That does not mean she likes it.


	2. charmolypi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _n. a mixed feeling of happiness while being sad_  
>  Sometimes, the famous '"Amari intuition" has its hang-ups.

These are two things that Fareeha knows for sure about her mother. The first is that, for better or worse, Ana does almost everything on purpose. Sometimes this is infuriating like her cryptic “post-mortem” riddles.  Other times it’s just frustrating, like when she words her suggestions and orders _just_ to make points about assumptions. Right now, as she hushes Fareeha while Angela makes a possibly _colossal_ mistake, it’s a mix of both.

But the _second_ thing that Fareeha knows about her mother, is that she expects Fareeha to know what she means with only a _look._ When Fareeha was younger, this mostly meant knowing _exactly_ how much trouble she was in. Other times, it was _apologize right now, where do you think you’re going, nice one,_ or _I’ll pretend I didn’t see that._ Nowadays, it was usually directly related to Fareeha doing dumb things that deserved responses like _I taught you better than that, I_ definitely _didn’t teach you that,_ and _you sweet fool._

Right now, Fareeha isn’t sure what her mother is trying to tell her. As Ana gathers her tea and nicks a piece of toast from the center plate, she shoots Fareeha a _look_ that she can’t decipher. _Have fun? Good luck? Don’t mess this up?_ Ana offers no words of comfort or wisdom as she leaves. It all happens too fast for Fareeha to process. Part of her wants to run after her and demand an explanation; a loaded glance like that is not a good precursor for anything. Fareeha takes a deep breath as her mother disappears down the hallway. With the interference gone, this is something she can handle herself.

When Angela said she was _thinking_ about her relative independence, this is not what Fareeha expected. Now is not the time to fight her about this, because nothing makes Angela clam up faster than being confronted in public about her own stupidity. After all, Satya’s still right there.

 _Oh no._ Fareeha glances at Satya. Her back is ramrod straight as usual, but the tension is so powerful that she winces. The architect stirs her yogurt with her spoon, focused on the swirling patterns the berry juices make. Fareeha watches her eat a single spoonful before continuing to stir. Satya _looks_ calm but she also hasn’t said a word.

“Ange, humor me for a second.” Fareeha turns to her fiancée, drawing in a deep breath as she does so. Angela turns to her, pushing the last of her third egg past her lips. She raises her eyebrows expectantly and Fareeha resists the urge to sigh. “Clearly Mom seems to think this is a great idea, but why don’t you explain the rules of this a little better?”

“Rules? Fareeha, I don’t think this is a game. I just think it’s important for me to be able to distinguish between things I can take care of myself and the things I cannot.” She pauses to take a sip of coffee.  “When I hit my limit, I’ll reach out. Otherwise, you don’t have to worry yourselves. Trust me, I can handle this.”

“And this would be for the duration of a week?” Satya’s still stirring her yogurt and there’s no other indication that she’s spoken. Angela smiles at her.

“For now. Then we can balance it out a bit. That way-”

“But obviously, you’re open to modifying this if need be, during the week.”

“Well...of course, Fareeha, I’m not _unreasonable._ I don’t _like_ being away from you. _”_ Angela nudges her shoulder and Fareeha bumps her back in response. “I’ll be in touch, I promise.”

From out the corner of her eye, Fareeha watches as Satya finishes the last of her yogurt.

“That is reassuring,” Satya stands suddenly, in a way that Fareeha knows for certain was due to her dissipating the hard-light stool beneath her. “If you have any need of me, my phone will be available for communication purposes. Unless called for, I will be otherwise occupied as there are projects requiring my attention.”

Angela says _something_ cheerful in response to that, but Fareeha can only feel her ears ringing as Satya excuses herself. That was _not_ a happy reaction.

 _Have fun with that, habibti._ That was definitely what her mother meant. Fareeha curses inwardly. The last thing anyone needs is a fight and yet, here they are at the brink of one. Why would Ana sign off on this if not to cause trouble? Her mother, chronic meddler and purveyor of fine dramas, spurring this on as if there are not _enough_ problems in Fareeha’s world...

She glances over at Angela, who’s scooping up her own yogurt and scrolling through her phone, zooming in on walls of text that are surely scientific journals. Meanwhile, Satya cleans her bowl at the sink, empties her teacup, and leaves the room. Satya is not a flouncer by any standard, but there is something bitter in the way she walks out.

 _‘Have fun with that, habibti_ ,’ indeed _._ Fareeha groans, rolling her eyes and pushing her stool backward. She doesn’t miss how Angela flicks her wings at the noise. Her fiancée looks over, brow furrowing.

“‘Reeha?”

“Ange,” Fareeha starts with a whisper because while it’s early and they are alone, they are not far from the regular breakfast times of others. “Could we have talked about this more before you went and did that?”

“What else was there to talk about? Didn’t I mention this?”

 _Guileless. Completely clueless._ Fareeha smiles sweetly, resisting the urge to sigh. “In so many words, but Ange, not everything that affects you only affects you.”

“Of course not. Fareeha, I’ve taken notice of how my wings have affected your schedules. A lot of it is unnecessary strain. You three need a break and I need to figure out how to manage.”

She’s not _wrong._

“Plus I’m a bit behind on lab work. I need to start my insect trials,” Angela smirks; Fareeha can feel the blood draining from her face. “Unless you’d like to be _bugging_ me while I’m knee-deep in fly larvae…”

“Haha, cute. You’ve made your point.” She shudders, mostly to make Angela laugh, but also in genuine disgust. “But just... don’t forget about us, okay?”

Angela reaches over and squeezes Fareeha’s knee in a familiar and grounding gesture. Fareeha covers Angela’s hand with her own and pokes at the silver engagement band until it turns, allowing the engraved golden letters to catch the light. She watches as Angela stares at it, expression softening before she looks up meet Fareeha’s gaze.

“I could never.”

* * *

 

Overall, Fareeha’s day doesn’t change.

If there’s one thing she regrets about the breakfast debacle, it’s not proving her mother wrong on the spot about what she does with her time, but Fareeha resists the urge to spend any time looking for her mother once she and Angela part ways.

After less than an hour of browsing her room’s mini library, she pops into the workshops and finds Torbjörn just starting work on a prototype for a new model of portable armor. She helps him modify it and test it out for a few hours, even bringing the Raptora out of the armoury and heading outside to do so. Thankfully, Torbjörn doesn’t make any comment as to _why_ she’s helping him out; it’s not altogether _unusual_ after all. It’s not until the heat becomes unbearable and Fareeha finally lands that he lets on that he knows anything all; he tries to dismiss her with the comment: “Go on, bother someone else for now.”

_I’m not botheri-!_

“Oh. Oh my god,” Fareeha groans, taking her helmet off and glaring at the Swede. “She told you. You’re taking bets, aren’t you? Let me guess, you, mom, and Reinhardt?”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions for an Amari,” Torbjörn raises one bushy eyebrow and chuckles, removing the remains of the armour from the Raptora. “No one’s takin’ bets on you staying away from your girlfriend.”

“You oldheads talk too much.” She punches Torbjörn in the shoulder, careful to rein in the extra strength of the suit. He just guffaws and waves her away. She rolls her eyes, heading back to the armoury.  “And she’s not my girlfriend; she’s my wife!”

“Not until the wedding she’s not,” comes his gruff response. Fareeha snorts, wiping the sweat from where it’s pooled at her hairline. The Gibraltar sun shines harshly on her as she ducks into the armoury. With the Raptora powered down, the suit quickly begins to heat up around her, so she disembarks as quickly as possible. Despite her hurry to dismantle and reassemble the armour, her flight suit seems to gain another gallon of sweat in the sweltering room. The Watchpoint itself is, thankfully, blessed with air conditioning, so Fareeha jogs back toward her room, intent on stripping and taking a quick shower.

Angela’s casually leaning against her door, wings hanging out of the back of her lab coat, pen in her mouth as she flips through some papers in a manila folder. Fareeha clears her throat as she approaches, so as not to startle the doctor too badly.

These are two things Fareeha knows for sure about her girlfriend. The first is that she is probably the only world-renowned doctor who still uses paper copies even when in the presence of state-of-the-art technology. The second is that her lips always taste like chapstick, a testament to how much nervous licking and nibbling she does.

“You weren’t answering your phone, ‘Reeha,” Angela chides, mumbling around her pen. Fareeha pats her flight suit pocket and does not find her phone. She thinks back to her arrival in the workshops until she realizes the exact moment when she left her phone on a workbench. Fareeha bends down, placing an apologetic kiss on Angela’s brow; she tilts her face up to nuzzle her in response. “Anyways, I was going to make lunch if you wanted some.”

Fareeha hums and leans back, watching as Angela adjusts her coat’s collar and pays no mind to the ruffling of her wings. She smiles, reaching around the blonde to open the door. They step into the room and Fareeha shimmies out of her flight suit, waiting to hear whatever Angela’s holding back. Her wings fluff as she closes them behind her, trying to focus on the papers in front of her.

There are many moments that make Fareeha wonder what fantasyland she’s living in these days; Angela calmly shuffling papers and ruffling her wings absently is certainly one of those.

“And I was hoping that you could you pet my wings during lunch?” Angela makes a very important sounding scribble on her papers, then peers up at Fareeha through her eyelashes.

“Of course, Ange,” says Fareeha and Angela beams.

When she emerges from the shower, Angela’s left a note for her, letting her know she’s gone to find Fareeha’s phone and start on lunch. A quick glance at her bedside alarm clock informs her that it’s not as late in the afternoon as she thought. After getting dressed once more, she arrives in the kitchen to find Angela arguing, however lightheartedly, with Athena.

“I wasn’t flying in the base. I _landed_ in the base. There’s a precise distinction between the two.”

_Oh dear._

“Dr. Ziegler, I have been asked to remind you not to engage in flight indoors each and every time I sense you flying in the base. Are you suggesting my sensors require a hardware update?”

“What I’m saying is,” Angela huffs, voice muffled by her pantry rummaging. “-is that I was not _flying inside._ I landed inside. You’re being difficult.”

“If I may remind you of the incident two weeks ago-”

“That was _actually flying._ And a dare!”

“Of your own making.” Athena’s speaker crackles, probably the closest the AI ever gets to a huff. Fareeha chuckles, stepping closer to the island to observe the ingredients that Angela’s gathering. A quick movement out of the corner of her eyes catches her attention. From the dining area, Mei waves, mouth full of her own meal. Zarya, Genji, and her are watching something from the couch, probably a newscast. In the kitchen itself, there’s only Jesse, leaning against the wall and munching on his sandwich. He jerks his thumb at the open window above the sink, not bothering to swallow before addressing Fareeha.

“In case you’re wonderin’ about the fuss, she came in thru the window.”

 _Angela…_ It takes everything in her to keep a straight face. “Yeah, she can do that now. Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Jesse.”

“Bluejay?” Angela perks up at the sound of her voice, abandoning her argument with Athena.

“Yes, my heart? Why are you flying through windows?” She grins at Angela to hide her worry and takes a few things out of her hands. “You could have taken off a wing.”

“It wasn’t this window, it was the upstairs window, it’s wider.” She squints as Fareeha begins to frown. Angela points up to Athena’s speaker. “I can have this argument with both of you, you know.”

“No need, I heard it already.”

“Good because I have a lab to get back to; I don’t exactly have the time.” Angela pulls Fareeha’s phone out of her coat pocket. “Hence me _flying_ over to the workshops to get you this.”

Fareeha takes the phone back, wincing as she scrolls through the missed messages then apologizing for not having it on her. With a kiss on the cheek, she’s forgiven and they set to work on fixing lunch, or rather, Angela does. As requested, Fareeha keeps her hands buried in her wings at every possible moment. Though Angela doesn’t mention it, Fareeha can tell that she’s working through some hypothesis and planning on being up all night. She bites her lip, resisting the urge to ask whether the satisfaction of petting can be stored; either she’s thought of that or she hasn’t.

By the time they’ve finished eating, Angela’s fixed a small buffet that confirms Fareeha’s first suspicion. She gathers it up, displaying it proudly to Fareeha.

“See? I’m taking my dinner with me. Don’t worry; I have this handled.” She squeezes Fareeha’s hand as they begin to do the dishes together. In the end, it turns out that Angela’s dinner is a bit too much to carry alone, so Fareeha takes the walk to the medical labs with her.

As Fareeha turns to leave, Angela pipes up, her voice full of worry. “Fareeha...you are doing alright, aren’t you?”

There are many moments that flash through Fareeha’s mind, some in the past, some in the present, some in the far-off hypothetical future. In this particular moment? Even though there’s something nudging at the back of her mind, Fareeha herself is...

“Me? I’m fine.” She dips down to steal a cherry-flavored kiss from the doctor’s lips. “You’re taking care of yourself; not much else makes me happier.”

Amused, Angela returns the gesture then pokes Fareeha in the chest, making her promise to keep her phone with her. Fareeha waves the phone apologetically and slips it back into her pocket as she backs out of the lab.

It’s been hours since breakfast. Angela’s question reminds her of something very important.

Fareeha needs to check on Satya.

* * *

 

These are two things Fareeha knows for sure about her friend. The first is that she prefers music to silence and silence to a conversation. It is for this reason that Fareeha goes back to the dormitory and retrieves one of her longer novels before setting off to find the architect. The second thing is that the more Satya tries to hide her emotions, the more obvious it becomes, but only to those who know where to look.

So when Fareeha enters the research and development fabrication lab, the first thing she notices is the lack of silence or music. Instead, the intermittent sounds of clinking glasses fill the room. Fareeha pauses in the doorway, listening for a pattern of sorts, but the tinkling rings out as random as raindrops. She closes the door softly behind her and looks across the room. There, at her workstation, sits Satya.

Not only is she surrounded by so many screens that Fareeha can't actually see her properly, but Satya’s protected, for lack of a better word, by several sentry turrets of various colors and unusual designs. As Fareeha approaches, four of them swivel to look at her, their large optics refocusing as she moves closer. Unlike the laser beam sentries used on the battlefield, these appear to be solely for observational use. The one furthest from Satya, and within arms reach of Fareeha, turns to its master and begins beeping erratically.

“One mistake was forgivable, but if you believe your dissipation will not be as swift and immediate as lightning itself, you are gravely-” Satya clears a narrow path in her screens and scolds the little beeping turret. There’s a moment when her gaze is solely focused on the machine, but as Fareeha watches, her gaze travels all the way up to Fareeha’s face and her voice slowly trails off. She gestures at one of her screens; the turret falls silent.

One of Satya’s legs slips out of its cross-legged position and she swiftly tucks it back into place on her hard-light stool. She tucks stray hairs behind her ear with a stylus and leaves it there, then waves her hand to create a slightly better window in the screens. With the wider view, Fareeha can see her slightly askew reading glasses and her baffled expression. Her brow furrows as Fareeha waves, showcasing her book.

“May I sit?”

“Was there nowhere else that you preferred to read?” Gone is the sharp tone she used for the sentry. In fact, gone is any inflection at all; Satya keeps her voice carefully neutral and lacking any of the inquisitive tones that might be reserved for such a question.

“I wanted some company if that’s okay?” _And you probably need it but you’d never ask._

Satya hesitates. “I am more productive in the absence of conversation.”

Fareeha tilts the book to show her the width of it. “I know. I’ll be reading. I won’t talk unless you do, promise.”

Satya straightens her back and Fareeha raises an eyebrow at the motion. “I will hold you to that. Will you be laying or sitting?”

“Is lounging a choice?”

In lieu of answering, Satya removes a stylus from behind her ear-she has one behind each ear, Fareeha realizes- and sketches a simple lounge chair. It takes her no more than two minutes to create the design, download the information to her prosthetic and create the chair just in front of Fareeha. By the time Fareeha moves the chair slightly out of the ring of sentries and settles into it, Satya has enclosed herself in her screens once more.

Fareeha reads for two and a half hours, checking her phone for new messages from Angela occasionally. There’s a few, nothing serious. She’s mostly showing off her ability for self-care, which while admirable, it really has been less than a day.

Several times, Satya clears her throat slightly, but Fareeha doesn’t acknowledge the sound. It’s not conversation. She’s patient and besides, the book’s starting to get good. Another hour passes with the sound of glass bowls echoing around them. The sun creeps toward the horizon, dousing the lab in a soft shade of orange.

Satya clears her throat for the eleventh time, not that Fareeha’s been counting, and speaks. “Fareeha, you do not have to be here.”

“Yeah, I know,” murmurs Fareeha, placing her book in her lap. When she looks up, Satya’s screens are all behind her, revealing her and counters covered with carefully dismantled appliances and hard-light constructions. Fareeha meets Satya’s gaze evenly and smiles. “But you seemed upset.”

“I am perplexed by recent events, not upset.” Satya removes her glasses and places them on the counter behind her.

“Not even the slightest bit vexed,” Fareeha raises her eyebrows, keeping most of the teasing out of her voice. Satya narrows her eyes slightly but otherwise doesn’t react.

“I would not argue against my being slightly vexed, though I would prefer to avoid such controversial terminology.” She sniffs. “It is not as if I do not understand that Angela is well within her rights to maintain and assert her autonomy.”

 _I’m sorry that you’ve gotten close enough to feel Ange’s cactus spines._ Fareeha hums, picking around Satya’s words until she has a better idea of the issue and not just her own thoughts. “She’s not going to hurt herself-”

“I have faith in Angela’s ability to take care of herself for as long as she is willing to do so. It is not that which causes me such...vexation.”

Fareeha pauses, sitting up in surprise. Her earnest explanation- of how the wings have gradually made Angela better about caring for herself- melts away.

Satya places her tablet on the counter in front of her, then pauses to align it with the grain of the bamboo surface. She doesn’t take her eyes off of it as she speaks. “It has recently occurred to me that I have been overbearing from the beginning and I did not know when to stop.”

“Woah, no, Saty-” Fareeha’s protests die in her throat when Satya looks up, eyes flat and resigned.

“It is not an issue you can solve. You do not need to explain her thoughts for me.”

“I don’t have to! Were you listening at breakfast? That’s why I asked her. For _you._ Because I get it and Mom gets it and Angela gets it but apparently I am the only who remembers that Angelese is not your first language.” Satya blinks and makes a face so Fareeha plows on. “You haven’t been overbearing. Ange doesn’t _do_ dependence; she’s trying to reassure herself that she’s not being a _burden_ on us. This is about _her._ It’s not you.”

Satya slumps, her shoulders drawing toward her chest. “I see. I confess that your line of questioning did not stand out as immediately relevant. My thoughts were elsewhere.”

“Well, it’s not you.”

“I heard you the first time,” grumbles the architect and finally, the worry in Fareeha’s heart softens. She sits up and grins, relieved.

“It’s not you,” Fareeha repeats herself, and this time, she sings it, drawing out the vowels until Satya glares at her.

“Did you not just hear me-?”

“It’s not-”

“It’s not me! I understand. Angela is grappling with her own autonomy because her wings are her work as well as her life and she’s trying to make sure she can handle them without us!” Satya finally looks at her again but her glare is softening. “Stop smirking at me!”

Holding up her hands in surrender, Fareeha laughs light and free as the inflection bleeds back into Satya’s voice, along with her palpable frustration.

“You’re terrible,” Satya scowls, causing Fareeha to laugh harder.  “I was working through that myself-”

“And coming to the wrong conclusion!”

“You let her get away with too much! How was I to know I wasn’t the problem? For being a- What is the word?”

“Hardass?” Fareeha freezes before the word’s even out of her mouth, unsure of the line or if she's crossed it.

Satya simply raises an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a hardass, Fareeha Amari?”

“Would you prefer the term _hard-light_ -ass?” Much to Fareeha’s delight, that is what breaks Satya completely, though she tries to hide it, covering her mouth with one hand and turning toward the window as she chuckles.

“You are truly incorrigible.” Satya unfolds her legs and gets to her feet, flexing her wrists. “But thank you. You’ve made your point and I understand it. Please carry on with your day.”

“What, I can’t even finish my book?”

Satya pauses, her eyes searching Fareeha’s expression. “If you would like, you’re welcome to stay.”

Fareeha flops down onto the lounge chair again and scoops up her book. It takes all of twenty minutes for her to get restless now that she has nothing to wait for and she huffs, shifting to get comfortable. She peeks over the top of the pages at Satya as she putters around the workshop. Before long, she replaces the clinking bowl sounds with a soft melody full of harp strings. Fareeha wiggles in the seat and turns her attention back to the book.

“Oh.” The soft noise gets her attention. She tilts her head back until she can see Satya upside down. Satya cradles the little alarm sentry in her hands and stares at something on an adjacent counter. When Fareeha makes a little noise of inquiry, Satya reaches out and grabs the item. It’s Satya’s favorite teacup and judging by the way she holds it, it’s full. She sniffs at it.

“It’s hibiscus and ginger...but it’s cold.” Fareeha holds the spine of her book to her lips, watching amused as Satya grabs her tablet and begins scribbling on it. The sentry watches its master closely. “There’s no way you brought this here. It took far longer for it to get this cold.”

Never mind why her mother dropped in without saying anything. Fareeha just gapes at her, amazed. “You just used a thermodynamics equation on a cup of tea, didn’t you?”

“What else would I use? This blend steeps at a precise temperature; obviously, Ana brought this shortly before lunchtime.” Satya sets it down and picks up the sentry, petting it absently. “Perhaps you were not so mistaken after all.”

Something in Fareeha’s heart breaks at the realization that Satya assumed that her inventions were incorrect before she expected visitors.

“Satya?” Fareeha waits until she’s sure the other woman’s listening. “What have you been doing all day?”

“Working? Reconstructing things? I’m behind on watchpoint restoration projects.” Satya sighs when Fareeha shoots a skeptical look at the sentry under her palm, then at the controlled chaos surrounding Satya’s workspace. “Very well, that was my _intention_. What is your point, Fareeha?”

There are too many responses that run through Fareeha’s head, so she skips all of them and asks instead, “Can I help you with anything?”

Satya stares blankly at her for several moments.

“It’s a big base, you know? The thought of you running around fixing things by yourself-” _Is_ _not a happy one._ Fareeha twists her body so she can properly look at her. “It just sounds like a lot for one pers-”

“I think I’m done for today, but tomorrow you may help. I can...I’ll make a schedule.” She places the sentry down, then heads back to her workstation, avoiding Fareeha’s gaze. She opens a new screen, then pauses to peer over it at Fareeha. “You really don’t have-”

“I _know.”_ Fareeha huffs. _“_ Am I not allowed to want to do something? _”_

Satya only hums in response, but Fareeha can see there’s a soft smile on her lips.

_Thank goodness._


	3. reverie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _n. a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts_  
>   
>  It’s hard to pick up the pieces when you can’t decide which one to grab first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I passed both my exams with flying colors!!!!! <3

The teacup bothers Satya.

Its pale orange ceramic surface reflects the afternoon sun, making it gleam a brighter hue than it truly is. She’s moved it three times already, from its original spot to the windowsill to an empty workstation and finally to her own. No matter where she sets it down in the workshop, its presence draws her eye over and over. It is not perhaps, what it is in reality, but what it represents.

Satya avoids thinking much deeper into that because it makes her head hurt; not for the first time, she thinks of something else, this time someone who exists outside the confines of her thoughts.

A quick glance at her closest screen tells her it’s nearing the usual bi-weekly team dinner time. Satya peeks over the screen at Fareeha. Despite having their conversation an hour earlier, the other woman is still reading quietly. She squints and adjusts her glasses, trying to discern the thickness of the remaining pages. It’s been several hours since she began the book; Satya knows from experience that Fareeha’s reading speed is far above ave—

Fareeha looks up, gaze flicking to Satya’s as if magnetized.

Satya ducks behind the screen, averting her eyes on instinct. _That_ was foolish. She should have thought before she looked or she should have just said something instead of looking or waited until she was ready to say something. Satya allows herself a single moment of panic then straightens up, clears the screen away, and addresses Fareeha properly.

“Fareeha, it’s nearly dinner time.” Satya can’t help but notice that Fareeha looks up again as if she’d never caught Satya staring.  “You should eat.”

“It _is_ about that time.” Fareeha yawns, stretching out luxuriously on the chaise. “Are you eating too?”

In hindsight, she did not choose her words very carefully. Satya sighs, reminding herself that she is talking to a _friend,_ one who understands her better than most _._ “I’m...not ready to eat with everyone else.”

“Do you want me you to bring you something?” Fareeha closes her book and sits up expectantly.

 _No!_ Satya’s stomach flips at the thought. With startling clarity, she realizes perhaps this is how Angela must have felt this morning, needing space for herself, but not needing space away from them. If Fareeha realizes what Satya’s thinking, she doesn’t let on. Regardless, Satya flushes with shame. _How foolish I have been..._

“Satya?” Fareeha stands and approaches with soft footsteps. “You can always eat later. I’ll make sure there’s something left, at least.”

“I think that would be best.” She shakes her head, trying to shed the feeling of her startling realization. “I need to clean and organize my thoughts. I will see you tomorrow, after all.”

When Satya smiles, Fareeha smiles back and salutes, taking the dismissal with grace as only she can. She gathers her book and leaves the workshop; the door slides shut softly behind her.

Alone with her thoughts, Satya buries her face in her hands and groans.

* * *

 

In the end, once she’d reassembled the two hair dryers, space heater, toaster, and a particularly grumpy roomba, Satya crept around the watchpoint putting the things back. In some way, big or small, the appliances all had been improved or repaired. No one would notice the space heater until winter arrived. The roomba might find some use in the recreation space from whence it came. The improved hair dryers had their settings modified to be a bit more intuitive. Since no one used the canteen kitchen where the toaster came from, she’d considered adding it to the roster of appliances in the main kitchen, but the thought of those at dinner deterred her.

The first thing Satya sees when she re-enters the labs is her set of sentry turrets. The outermost one— a  small translucent blue and white sentry— chirps when it sees her. She smiles softly, scooping it up with one hand. Despite her own short fallings, it had done nothing wrong after all. She powers it down and places it next to her station for safe-keeping, then sets about dismantling the chaise and the other turrets.

With the rest of the lab finally tidied up, Satya surveys her blueprints at her workstation. Most of the designs are excessive. A ceiling fan that sucks dust out of the air as it spins. Magnetized floor tiles that would prevent furniture from sliding in earthquakes.  Infrared refrigerator attachment for identifying warm patches in an under-performing fridge...

Considering the over-crowded state of the watchpoint refrigerators, perhaps that one would be worth saving. File by file, Satya examines the dozens of designs, keeping only the best and most practical. There’s not many that fit her standards.

There’s one open file that she doesn’t consider throwing away: the schedule. She adds some final touches and sends a copy to Fareeha for her perusal. Overall, it’s a just a list of tools they’ll need to repair the medical storage room to some semblance of functionality, paired with a basic timeline. The project would take Satya a week at least, but with Fareeha, it looks like it could take two days maximum. Satya wrinkles her nose; that leaves her with a lot of empty time. She banishes the thought as that is a problem for the future.

Satya takes a deep breath, dragging the last of the useless designs into the recycling bin. With most of them purged and the rest tucked away for another day, she tidies her desk, gathers her phone and teacup, and leaves the labs, turning off the light as she goes. In the hallway, Satya pauses, letting herself feel the weight of the phone in her pocket and the heft of her mug in her hands.

_I should not have let myself get so upset._

Most days, Satya would have noticed someone else in her space, turrets or not. She takes a moment to massage her temples, ruminating on exactly _how_ out of sorts she’d gotten and _why_. As with the last few times, the thought train takes her nowhere.

Regardless, Satya can’t help but feel a soft fondness for Ana and her eccentricities. The older woman did know her tea; she and Satya have spent many a morning experimenting with new blends, sharing their love and knowledge of the beverage. Fareeha clearly didn’t know about the cup; she had her own intentions, which were aligned with her mother’s perhaps, but not identical. For just a moment, she wonders how much worse her day would have gotten if Fareeha had not decided to come find her.

It’s not a productive thought, so she dismisses it. Once again concerned with her tea, Satya takes a back route to the canteen, tip-toeing in her sandals and feeling the tiniest bit silly when doesn’t run into a single soul. While the tables and benches of the lunch room are stacked and dusty, the spacious, industrial kitchen is fairly clean. It doesn’t have a seven-year-old layer of dust on it, like other unused parts of the watchpoint. She swipes a finger on the top of the microwave and smiles when there’s only a light layer of dust.

There was a time before she realized how few people were accepting the recall or truly part of the motley crew of Overwatch that Satya decided to restore the functionality to the huge kitchen. With most of the team in and out it never proved necessary to use, but when she needs something, Satya always knows which appliances work.

Satya chuckles to herself as she places her mug in the microwave. “At least, I do know when these were last cleaned.”

Satya hums along with the microwave, watching it count down the seconds until her tea is ready to drink. She looks across the kitchen to the window over the sink. She can see the sky awash with purple, pink and orange as the sun just barely touches the horizon. When her tea is done, Satya cups the warm ceramic in her hands, steps out the kitchen’s back door and starts on her evening walk.

Despite the cool breeze coming off the ocean and her lack of sleeves, Satya can feel the tea warming her core as she walks around the perimeter. She gazes up at the darkening sky, the brightest stars and one exceptionally bright planet that is dropping closer to the horizon.

As she walks, she sips her tea until it’s light enough to hold with one hand, then slips her sandals off, reveling in the feeling of warm asphalt underfoot. With her shoes in hand, she pads to the edge of the grassy western cliffs and watches the last of the sun sink into the sea. Satya closes her eyes and listens to the waves crash below her, the gulls cry above her, the wind whip past her ears. She sighs, letting her mind empty of thoughts for the first time since she woke up.

Naturally, this moment breaks the second she opens her eyes and sips at her tea again, but the calm remains. In place of anxiety and self-doubt, there is only exhaustion. At the bottom of her cup is only the barest sediment of tea leaves. She begins to shiver.

By the time she finishes her walk, full-fledged goosebumps have risen up and down her arms. Satya slips into the door from which she’d exited. She doesn’t meet a soul on her way from the canteen to the main domestic kitchen, but Mei is sitting at the kitchen island when she enters.

Though Satya has long been accepted by the recalled Overwatch, she holds a special place in her heart for those who gave her the benefit of the doubt when she did not deserve it. Mei always seems to have more than enough love and trust in her heart for everyone, a fact of which Satya is reminded of as Mei looks up from her ice cream and beams.

“Good evening, Satya!” Mei swallows her spoonful of ice cream as Satya responds in kind. “We were missing so many at dinner today. Are you hungry? It’s in the left fridge.”

Satya takes a second to slip her feet back into her sandals before heading over to the sink to rinse her mug and then to the refrigerator that Mei indicated. It takes a moment before she thinks to ask, “Why were we missing so many at dinner?”

“Reinhardt and Brigitte were called to handle something in Austria earlier today. Hanzo and Genji are still in Japan. And Jamison and Mako have been gone for about a week now.”

“Ah, yes, the impending outback re-revolution…” Satya shakes her head. _As always, this team has... conflicting priorities._

“Fareeha said you and Angela were very busy with work. And you know Lena won’t be back from London for some time. So it was a very quiet affair.”

Satya opens the fridge to two large tupperwares full of chili con carne. “I see. Jesse forgot a third of the team was missing.”

Mei’s giggle is her answer. Satya pulls both of the containers out, setting them on the counter to inspect them. One is vegetarian and one, judging by the texture and color of the meat, is turkey.

“We could not complain. There’s certainly enough for a few days of lunches.”

Satya hums in agreement, scooping some of the turkey variety into a bowl. She adds her own blend of spices and pops the bowl in the microwave, taking care to cover it. Satya turns back to Mei just as she finishes the last of her dessert. “Whenever we cook, we do at least ask Winston who is on base.”

“This is true,” Mei says, washing her bowl in the sink. “I suppose there are benefits to either way. We don’t typically have much left over.”

Satya nods, putting the chili back in the refrigerator.

“I hope you enjoy your dinner, Satya! I need to get some readings done before Zarya and I go out tomorrow.” Mei pats her hair bun, ducking and hiding a sheepish smile. Satya smiles back.

“Of course. Enjoy your night.” Just like that, Satya is alone in the main kitchen. She shakes her head fondly; every researcher on this team works so hard to make up for the lack of manpower in their skeleton crew: Mei, Winston, Satya herself, Angela…

It’s another moment before she takes out her phone. She opens her contacts then thinks better of it and places it on the counter. Another thirty seconds pass on the microwave and Satya glares at her phone all the while. Satya picks it up again, feeling the heft of it in her hand. It is not as heavy as her mug, not by a long shot, but it’s enough that it reminds her: isolation is far from necessary.

 _how was your day?_ **_9:17 pm_ **

Satisfied with her neutral inquiry, Satya puts her phone down and reaches for the microwave as it beeps. She nearly drops her bowl of hot chili in surprise when the incoming texts vibrate the entire countertop.

**3 unread messages from _Angela Ziegler_**

**_9:18 pm_ ** _Good so far, but not over._

 **_9:18 pm_ ** _How was yours? Productive, I hope?_

 **_9:18 pm_ ** _Or relaxing, at least?_

Satya groans. She almost regrets starting this conversation; there’s no way she can tell the truth. Grabbing a bottle of aloe water and her bowl, Satya heads to her room, trying to muster a proper response. It’s not until she shuts her bedroom door behind her that she thinks of one.

 _it was, thank you._ **_9:25 pm_ **

_i was told that you missed dinner?_ **_9:25 pm_ **

**_9:26 pm_ ** _No worries! I made mine earlier and brought it to the lab._

 **_9:27 pm_ ** _But while we’re worrying about each other, it sounds like you missed dinner as well?_

Satya sets her food down and takes a proper moment to glare at the message. Somehow, her deflection brought the conversation back to herself all too easily. She paces for a moment. She really shouldn’t _worry_ Angela further or she might blame herself for Satya’s own mistakes. On the other hand, she has no control over how Angela will react to her words just as, she reminds herself wryly, Angela had no control over how Satya would react to hers.

 **_9:31 pm_ ** _Satya? I’m joking._

 _you are not._ **_9:32 pm_ **

_i appreciate the concern, but i have food now._ **_9:33 pm_ **

**_9:35 pm_ ** _Having nightmares after eating late is not a wive’s tale, you know. :P_

 _adding an emoticon after medical advice does not negate its serious intentions._ **_9:35 pm_ **

**_9:36 pm_ ** _Worth a shot. Sleep well, okay?_

 _thank you. i wish the same for you._ **_9:37 pm_ **

_if you sleep at all tonight, that is._ **_9:37 pm_ **

_:P_ **_9:38 pm_ **

With that, Satya places her phone on her bedside table next to her chili and starts to get ready for bed. First she exchanges her hard-light arm for her simple cosmetic one. Then she trades her day clothes for a softer nightgown and sits on the edge of her bathtub, wiping her bare feet with a damp washcloth. She runs the tap over her feet, then dries and lotions them until they’re soft and clean once more. In the mirror, she removes her makeup and brushes her braid out. In the middle of the whole process, Satya hears her phone vibrate while she's finishing up in the bathroom, but it’s not until she comes back to the bed that she has a good chuckle at Angela’s response.

 ** _9:43 pm_** _Touché..._

There’s not much she can say to that, so Satya sets her phone on its charger. Her chili has cooled to an edible temperature by the time she climbs into bed with her tablet. She props the device against one of her decorative pillows and sits against the backboard with other pillows behind her. After tucking the covers around her folded legs, she puts on a nature documentary and settles in to enjoy her food.

As she watches the open water segment, Satya hums along with the dramatic music. There are few things as beautiful as marine mammals cutting through the water, but the grace and power with which a great white can _catch_ one of those mammals is a rival, both aesthetically and evolutionarily. It’s a soothing set of documentaries that she could quote by heart, but she refrains; she’s too focused on eating.

The documentary transitions from open water to the frigid seas of the Arctic and Satya sets her empty bowl aside and shifts the tablet and her body so she can comfortably watch while laying down. The penguins huddle on screen, bracing themselves against a long winter. She shivers sympathetically and snuggles deeper into her blankets. Logically, she knows she shouldn’t do such a thing, but after her day, one more deviation will not kill her; she makes herself comfortable in her pillow and blanket nest. Once the penguin chicks finish growing up, she’ll go to bed properly.

The narrator drones on: “But not every female will come back from the ocean. For some chicks, they will lose their mother before even they know her. Some ninety percent of emperor penguin chicks will never make it to adulthood, but this is mainly due to predation—”

_Deep cerulean blue, the bluest she’s ever seen, surrounds her. With the sunlight filtering down through it, the water shines with borderline atomic brightness. She turns, turns again, sluggish and unsure in the cold water. Her sari weighs her down and Satya tugs at it in frustration until she pulls it off completely. It sinks slowly as she watches._

_A flash of black and white zooms by. Penguins! Four of them dart up to her, bubbles escaping their mouth as they clack their beaks in excitement. Satya shakes her head. She’s not one of them; they should go on without her! The penguins poke her until Satya looks down. One prosthetic flipper notwithstanding, she_ does _appear to be a penguin._

_Curious._

_She follows the flock through the water, flanked by two of them as they follow the others to a larger group and finally resurface. Satya takes in deep breaths of frigid air. She bobs on the surface of the water and looks up to the Arctic sky, mesmerized by the array of colors. It’s not until she hears shrill chirping that she remembers why they’re all here in the first place._

_Diving back down with the flock, Satya chases after the school of fish they’ve cornered, clicking her beak with glee as she catches half a dozen with ease. She shares them with some of the penguins flanking the school of fish, then dives back in for more. One moment she’s surrounded by silvery scales, the next, nothing._

_Satya whirls in space, looking through the dark blue expanse of water but she’s alone. One spin, two, three…?_

_She’s dizzy, unable to tell. She turns once more to see a shape speeding out of the darkness. She shakes her head, trying to focus. It’s black and white and moving fast- another penguin?_

_It’s too big to be a penguin._

_Heart in her throat, Satya paddles her feet backward and turns to flee from the orca whale as it bears down on her, flapping her flippers for maximum speed. She jets toward the surface. If she can jump out, she has a better chance of confusing it. The water’s hue brightens slowly. Just a little further and she can make it._

_She swims with all her might, but the surface isn’t getting any closer. She kicks and propels herself further but... She’s moving but there’s not… she’s not…_

_Satya slows and stops swimming, looking below her. The orca is no longer following. The open water is calm around her._

_There’s a burst of bubbles at her back. Satya whirls, only to come face to face with a jaw full of sharp ivory teeth, a huge rose-pink tongue and blackened palate—_

“ _No!_ ” Satya sits up with a gasp, kicking and flailing at her blankets. Her heart hammers in her ears as she frantically does a body check, feeling all over to be sure she’s puncture wound free. When she’s finished checking, she has the presence of mind to untangle herself properly. She smoothes down her softest blanket until her breathing evens out.

With a frustrated huff, Satya dabs tears from her cheeks and side-eyes her empty bowl on the bedside table. The documentary narrator has continued to speak calmly while she was asleep because the footage has long since moved on from the Arctic oceans; instead, the screen shows a school of Amazon piranhas devouring a sickly fish. Satya shudders at the sight, even as the last clear memories of her nightmare slip away. She closes the video. It’s just past eleven, according to her tablet, so she sets it aside.

“All things considered, I think it's time for bed.”

Satya fixes her covers, then turns them down properly. She reaches over for her white noise machine and turns it on, letting the waves replace the silence in the room. When she curls up under her heavy blankets, a sense of calm floods her.

With the sounds of waves reminding her that she is safely on shore, Satya sleeps peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -If you’re curious, that planet on the horizon is Jupiter.  
> -Angela did try to warn her. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ but what's one more thing gone wrong after the day Satya's had?  
> -(if you think I’m spending too much time on ‘slice of life’ type chapters, don’t worry. there’s a method here.)  
> -Happy Autism _Acceptance_ Month! Expect more Satya content, both in and out of this fic, as I passively aggressively cope with Autism $peaks bullshit and their supporters.  
>  -*realizes SFV will be a year old in 4 days* *SCREAMS*


	4. aequilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _n. (Latin) a well-balanced state of mind_  
>  Fareeha has to wonder if her pep talk worked a little too well; Satya has surpassed pleasantly content and moved onto being impishly cheeky.
> 
> Two can play that game.
> 
> Well, Fareeha can certainly try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to humbly apologize for the wait. More info in the endnotes, but please enjoy this chapter!

When it comes to pleasant surprises, Fareeha would never deny that she is luckier than most. When she goes to bed alone, she wakes up with a face full of feathers more and more often— often enough to be expected, but still infrequent enough to not be guaranteed. Luckily, Angela sneaking into the room doesn’t always wake her up.

This morning, Fareeha wakes to Angela neatly snuggled into her embrace. At this point, it’s habit to sneeze playfully as she unburrows from Angela’s feathers. Fareeha stretches her legs out, flexing her toes to relieve the nighttime cramps. The air is still, moved only by Angela’s deep breathing and her own.

The soft tones of her alarm interrupt Fareeha’s slow return to complete consciousness. She rolls over, reaching out blindly for her phone on its charging pad. She manages to silence it, but Angela stirs anyway.

“‘Reeha...it’s too early.”

Fareeha extracts her arm out from under Angela and sits up. She leans over, pulls Angela’s hair back with a free hand, then drops a soft kiss on her forehead. “Only for those of us who went to bed well after midnight.”

Her fiancée grumbles and snuggles into her pillow. One of her wings flicks irritably. Fareeha leaves a trail of light kisses along her side, from her cheek to her shoulder and down to her elbow. That usually garners a reaction but Angela barely stirs.

“So, am I allowed to wake you up? Or does that count as helping?”

“That’s cheating. I’ll get up…soon...” Voice foggy with sleep, Angela rolls to her other side, so she can face her properly. Fareeha looks down into half-lidded blue eyes and laughs softly. Angela doesn’t make any move to clear her hair out of her face, but she does offer a sleepy smile.

“If you get up ‘soon’ enough, you could fly while I run; we haven’t done that in a while.” In response, Angela says nothing, but her wings twitch with interest. Fareeha grins.

Angela has other ideas. “I‘m sleeping in today.”

Fareeha lets out a small huff of laughter, then leaves her be. Angela will wake when she wishes to, and that’s that. Fareeha however, has a schedule to keep. Satya will be expecting her help shortly after breakfast. So she rolls out of bed, throws on some shorts and a tank, and goes running.

She runs around the watchpoint, then down the cliff stairs to the beach, feet pounding on the damp sand. She runs along the edge of the surf, watching the shorebirds run away from the waves and her encroaching human presence. The sea breeze cools the sweat on her brow as she begins running back toward the watchpoint, making a U-turn where the beach ends and the cliffside meets the sea.

She stops for a moment at the top of the cliff stairs to admire the shimmering Mediterranean. Fareeha drains her water bottle, then tosses a salute in the general direction of Egypt. Across the glistening waves, she knows her old Helix squad is already awake as well, getting ready to face some untold perils. Fareeha thinks of them for a moment; usually, she doesn’t allow herself to worry, but this is one of the few times she lets her thoughts stray.

 _Only for a moment though._ Fareeha turns on heel and jogs back to the watchpoint proper, focusing only on the team she belongs to right now.

When she gets back into her room, it smells of roses and vanilla. This isn’t unusual; Angela’s body wash is a signature scent, a soft indulgence she allows herself. However, Fareeha has to hold in a giggle at the sight of Angela contorted in front of the wall mirror, trying to reach at feathers with the preening brush.

“Good morning, Ange,” she says instead, tossing her sweaty towel into the hamper. Angela turns to Fareeha with a pout, clearly frustrated.

“I’ll be done in time for breakfast, I promise.” She turns around again, trying to see the spot she can’t quite reach in the mirror. “I just thought it was possible to reach my right secondaries with my left arm, but I can’t quite… the angle’s all wrong. I’m making it worse.”

Force of habit has Fareeha opening her mouth the tell her exactly what’s wrong, but she remembers and settles for a pointed hum instead. She turns to her closet, rummaging through her dresser until she finds some sweatpants and a thin long sleeve shirt. She checks the forecast on her phone and grabs a light tank as well. Safety is paramount, but she’ll be damned before she gets caught in a hot, suffocating building without a backup plan.

“‘Reeha, am I forgetting something?” Angela doesn’t even bother to mask her exasperation.

“You might have to switch it around a bit. The angle looks pretty awkward.” Fareeha turns to her with a smile, trying to offset the disappointed look on the blonde’s face. She holds her hand out, and Angela places the brush there without a word. “There’s two pins; just line the notches up and push the pins through.”

She tilts the brush to show her where the pins are holding the handle in place, then takes them out. The smooth hard light pins slide through the holes that set the brush at a ninety-degree angle. Fareeha shakes the brush gently to demonstrate its sturdiness.

“That’s clever.” Angela takes the brush back and takes the pins out, resetting the brush to a forty-five-degree angle. Fareeha lets her hair down and doesn’t say anything.

“I really don’t do this enough, do I?” Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Angela turn to her, then quickly back to the mirror.

Fareeha sidesteps to Angela and bumps her hip playfully. “You’ll get the hang of it.” She leaves Angela to her preening and steps into the bathroom, running the shower until it’s a hint cooler than is comfortable. She wastes no time getting clean, washing the sweat off her body and rinsing her hair. By the time she throws on some underwear and leaves the bathroom, Angela’s nowhere to be found. Fareeha shimmies into her clothes and tosses her tank, toolkit, and a water bottle into a simple drawstring knapsack. Once her shoes are laced, she heads out for breakfast.

Angela is nose deep in a mug of coffee when she arrives in the kitchen, reviewing a thin tablet while Jack talks quietly over a bowl of cereal. As Fareeha steps closer, Angela looks up from the tablet and makes a face at Jack.

“Jack, with all due respect, I’m still a medic. I don’t specialize in infiltration. That would be far better suited to Satya or Genji.”

Jack leans back, disappointment evident on his face. “They can’t fly.”

“No, perhaps not.” Fareeha is sure she’s not imagining the bite of steel in Angela’s voice. “But that’s not my area of expertise and I’m not planning on it becoming mine either. As _always,_ I am happy to assist in a medic’s capacity, nothing more.”

Fareeha slips her hands into her pockets, casually peering over Angela’s shoulder at the briefing. Angela flutters her wings slightly in acknowledgment of her presence but otherwise keeps her attention on the former strike commander.

Jack sighs, taking the tablet back before Fareeha can read much on it besides something about Rome and a spread of blueprints. “Some might say it’s safer to have one’s own extraction plan, but I understand.”

 _“Some_ would say it’s dangerous to step outside of one’s role." Angela says tersely, setting her mug onto the counter with a resounding  _clack._  "Both Satya and Genji are more than capable of getting in and out of places quickly, not that they shouldn’t have back up. Again, I don’t mind supporting the effort, but—”

“Can it wait ‘til Genji gets back? Satya and I are kind of busy.” Fareeha interjects smoothly, ignoring the implications of Angela’s low grumble at being cut off.

Jack raises an eyebrow at her, eyes narrowed behind his red-tinted glasses.

“What? We’re fixing the base. Don’t look at me like that, Jack.”

Jack does continue to look at her like that and then turns to Angela, who shrugs. “They _are_ fixing the base, or rather a part of it. It’ll be a great help to me when we have sanctioned operations once more.”

He adjusts his glasses and shakes his head. “The stakes are low and this intel is probably old anyway, what with how it got here. It can wait.” He gathers his cereal and tablet, makes to leave the kitchen, then turns back to them at the doorway and awkwardly clears his throat. “Well, have fun.”

Fareeha snorts, turning back to Angela to make fun of his antics, only to realize that the blonde has gone rigid. Her wings bristle with unspoken anger. She sips stiffly at her coffee.

“Woah there, you okay?”

“No. I’m not suited for what he’s asking me to do.” Angela leans into Fareeha’s side, half-heartedly wrapping a wing around her. In a small voice, she adds, “And I don’t want to be.”

“That’s okay. That's not what you do.”

“I’m just a medic.” Angela sighs, placing her mug on the counter again. “Why isn’t that ever enough?”

“Just a medic? Come on, Ange! You’re the world’s best surgeon _and_  the top nanotech expect, not just a medic. Jack can’t forget that just because you’ve decided to be here right now,” says Fareeha, rubbing slow circles on Angela’s back. “You can’t be both spy and doctor.”

“Do I have something on my face?”

Fareeha and Angela both look up to see Satya in the kitchen doorway, staring down the hallway.

“Only your makeup?” Fareeha giggles when Angela nudges her, groaning. “What? I’m not _wrong_ -”

Satya turns to them, her expression shifting from confusion to alarm as she takes in their huddled posture. “Is everything alright?”

Angela extends the wing around Fareeha out toward Satya. “We’re fine, Ibis.”

“Jack...looked at me as if I’d done something peculiar.” Satya joins them at the kitchen counter, slipping her headset off her ears and repositioning her shoulder tote. As she walks, her blue coveralls shimmer in the sunlight, gossamer and nothing like the work clothes Fareeha’s wearing. Fareeha tilts her head, wondering whether it could be made of some sort of hard light fabric or just selected to fit Satya's overall motif.

She shakes off the thought. “You didn’t, I promise. He was gearing up to send you on a mission, but I told him you were busy today. That’s all.”

“He has a very _optimistic_ view of what my wings will allow me to do.” Angela shakes her head, reaching over to grab the kettle. “He showed me a set of objectives that are clearly better suited to you or Genji.”

Satya makes a face. “You’re a doctor. Why would you need to do something suited to my skill set, let alone Genji’s?”

“Because I can fly.” Angela rolls her shoulders and resettles her wings- a clear sign of annoyance.

Satya makes a disgusted noise and turns on heel. “I will gladly educate him on _precisely_ why that will not work.”

There’s a moment in which Fareeha has a clear image of Satya shoving Jack into a chair and lecturing him for hours, charts and diagrams included. From the look on her face and the rigidness in her posture, it seems like a distinct possibility and while that would be priceless to watch-

“Whoa, Saty, cool your jets!” Fareeha pushes off the counter and tugs at the hem of Satya’s sleeve.

“I’m not the one with the jetpack, Fareeha.” Clearly, Satya is almost just as caught off guard as Fareeha is by the witty retort, but she can see the hint of a teasing smile on her lips. For once at the butt end of a play on words, Fareeha pulls her hand back in shock, assuming an exaggerated posture of mock affront.

Angela dissolves into snorts of laughter behind them, having lost all tension from just before.

“Satya, I think you broke her.” Angela twines her arms around Fareeha’s free arm. “ _Liebling,_ are you alright? Do you need a moment?”

“Well, she’s not _wrong._ Well played, Saty, well played.”

Angela pats her shoulder sympathetically and beckons Satya away from the doorway. “Don’t worry about Jack, Satya. I think we made him feel silly enough for suggesting it in the first place” Angela waits to continue until the architect steps closer, her expression soft and open. “Let’s just make breakfast, okay?”

So they do. Angela and Satya quickly commandeer the kitchen to make breakfast- the usual spectrum of cuisines. Fareeha feels her heart ease, watching Satya start on a small pot of oats and Angela crack half a dozen eggs into a bowl. The issues of yesterday seem to be just that. If her humming is anything to go by, Satya’s happy; judging by her wings, Angela is clearly content to have breakfast with them both. At least this part of their day hasn’t been affected by Angela’s strikeout for independence.

Satya holds out a knife and a cutting board balancing an onion, red pepper, and mushrooms, so Fareeha stops her musing and begins chopping ingredients for her own omelet and Angela’s. Before long the kitchen fills with the smell of sauteing vegetables, bubbling oats, and slightly overdone bagels. At some point, Angela quietly takes her supplements; Satya and Fareeha share an approving glance.

When they’ve all finished cooking, Fareeha doesn’t waste any time digging into her food,  responding to a “Bluejay?” with a gentle hand in Angela’s closest wing. It would be a quiet affair, but Angela pesters them with questions about the storage room, most of which Satya deflects by chiding Angela for her impatience.

“It was my intention to restore this building before you embarked on your sojourn, Angela. It has nothing to do with you.” Satya grumbles. “It just happened to be the building I wandered into yesterday morning.”

“I know that!” Angela fluffs up under her hand, so Fareeha pulls back until the feathers relax again. “It’s a nice coincidence, that’s all. I still appreciate it.”

“It was _supposed_ to be a surprise,” Satya sniffs and Fareeha cringes.

“You didn't exactly mention that yesterday.”

Angela fluffs up and flicks her wings out, displacing both her and Satya's hands. “Hush you two. It's not a problem. I won't peek, I promise. I'm _far_ too busy for that.”

Almost as if to prove her point, Angela leaves shortly after, throwing her dishes in the dishwasher and fretting about the autoclave having stopped an hour ago. Fareeha waves, watching her go.

“Do you ever just...get a feeling that she’s about to break the indoor flying rule?”

Satya snorts lightly, side-eyeing Fareeha. “Often. I think she enjoys pushing the boundaries of it.”

“At least she’s having fun.” Fareeha slides over to Angela’s vacated stool and pokes at Satya’s ever-present tablet until she opens it to the storage room blueprints. “We’re not going to work on this all day, are we?”

“It could be done before the weekend is over if we work on it as much as possible.”

“Have you considered...not doing that?”

Satya scoops up the last bit of her breakfast and chews thoughtfully for a moment. “No. I hadn’t.”

 _There are too many workaholics on this base._ “Satya…”

“We can discuss that later, Fareeha.” Satya slides off the stool and shoots her a look that is neither irritated nor happy. Fareeha studies her nails for a moment, shiny with leftover oil from her bagel. “Since you are skipping your drills, we should be making the most of the time. We said we'd be started by 8, did we not?”

She thinks back to the schedule and nods. It takes them only a few minutes to clean up the kitchen, leaving it shining and ready for whoever comes after them. A collection of notes on a joint document are one thing, but there’s still a need to discuss the project, so Fareeha speaks up as they leave the kitchen.

“So I was thinking we might be able to upgrade the storage to a satellite med bay of sorts since the main one isn’t equipped for more than a half dozen beds and we’re already going through the trouble of restoring the functionality. It wouldn’t be hard-”

“On the optimistic outlook that one day this base will be sanctioned and operational enough to require it beyond its original purpose,” Satya adds. Fareeha hums in agreement as if the interruption hasn’t surprised her.

Rather than probe too deeply into that uncharacteristic pessimism, Fareeha challenges it. “We'll have to be different than the old Overwatch. But you wouldn't have bothered trying to restore it at all if you didn't believe in that, right?”

Satya examines her tablet with more scrutiny than is strictly necessary and for a moment, their footsteps are the only thing heard in the hallway.

“Perceptive as always.”

“Just saying.”

“I believe in the people behind the idea,” Satya says quietly. “Even more than the idea itself.”

It's times like these that Fareeha feels like her mouth is a bit too big. Last December, when Satya first showed up at Gibraltar with nothing but a suitcase and a sour expression, no one trusted her as far as they could throw her- no one except those who understood the lost look in her eyes, not unlike the one in them right now.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Fareeha bumps Satya's shoulder— half in jest, half in apology. It’s enough to slightly off balance her. Satya does, however, retaliate with a shoulder check of her own, the sheer surprise of which sends Fareeha flailing. “Hey!”

Satya reaches out to steady her and Fareeha takes the hand gratefully. “Your balance is terrible. Are you hurt?”

“Pride's a little bruised, but it could be worse.” Satya's hand hums gently in hers, slightly cool despite the hard light generator under the enamel casing.

“You should know better than to try and throw a dancer off balance,” says Satya, pulling her hand away and attending to whatever the jostling had misplaced on the tablet screen.

“Hey now, I think I deserve a pass for forgetting. It's not like I ever _see_ you dance.” Fareeha shoves her hands in her pockets and shrugs. She turns around and uses her hips to open the door to the outside, stepping back until Satya can walk through.

“That could be arranged,” Satya says nonchalantly as she steps outside. Fareeha lets the door fall shut and takes a breath of the morning air. It takes a moment for the statement to sink in properly.

Satya _never_ dances in front of people.

Fareeha hesitates. “Uh, are you offering?”

“Are you interested?”

Fareeha opens her mouth, thinks better of it, then nods instead.

“Then yes, I'm offering.” Satya’s amused expression lets Fareeha know that her shock is definitely showing on her face. “For now though, we'll focus on the storage facility.”

_Rude. Rude and unfair. Catching me off guard like that..._

Satya's dancing skills are only hinted to on the battlefield, where every movement, no matter how graceful, has its own purpose. It’s certainly not something that Fareeha has ever been able to see well from the air. To be allowed to watch Satya dance is an honor that certainly no one else on base has had, so why—?

_Gift horse, ‘Ree. Gift horse._

Grinning, Fareeha shakes her head to clear it and focuses on keeping pace with Satya as she crosses the clearing in long strides. Whatever she did to deserve that, well...

Fareeha glances over her shoulder at the row of narrow windows in the medical wing. It’s a moment before she spots the open blinds of Angela’s lab; she blows a small kiss in that direction. Upon turning back toward the warehouse, she finds Satya with her eyebrows raised and a knowing smile on her face.

“Adorable.”

“Yes,” Fareeha says, without a single shred of shame. “Yes, I am.”

Shaking her head fondly, Satya pulls open the door to the storage unit in front of them. Fareeha helps her get it all the way open, wincing when a rusted edge catches her sleeve. The sunlight illuminates the years of dust in the foyer. On the floor, Satya's old footprints stand out in stark contrast.

Out of her tote, Satya hands Fareeha a small hard light face mask. Once they’re both properly protected from the dust, Fareeha steps inside. There's a cooing coming from the rafters that can only be described as nervous.

“I regret to say those doves will likely have to be relocated.” Satya watches the pair fly noisily out of the opened door, then steps inside. She points out the nest in the rafters and Fareeha walks over to take a closer look. “It’s well past breeding season; they’ll be migrating in a few months. Unless we have some use for this building between then and now, I suppose they can stay.”

“I’m sure the doves appreciate your leniency.” Fareeha squats down, examining the falling ceiling tiles and collection of droppings and nest material that have collected below the nest. There’s some vines growing near the door where Satya’s still standing, as well as evidence of some small rodents making the space their home. It’s kind of silly, now that she thinks about it, to have expected the watchpoint’s outer buildings to remain in pristine condition for the better part of a decade. “Isn’t it weird how nature just kind of took over?”

“Such is the way of things. Chaos is the natural state of the universe. We bring order to things as we create them. When we no longer have need of them, they return to chaos.”

“Alright, entropy aside-”

“What else is there besides that?”

Fareeha tilts her head, looking up at Satya. She seems startled to meet Fareeha’s gaze, so Fareeha looks back at the bird's nest before responding.

“That’s frighteningly existential of you.”

“It...it is not _frightening._ ” Satya scuffs the point of her shoe through the floor’s dust layer. _“_ That is simply the way of the universe. Work must be done to create and maintain order. It’s how we survive. It’s how we define ourselves as humans. There’s nothing else.”

Fareeha gets to her feet and leans on a nearby crate. “Saty, it’s way too early for me to be questioning my meaninglessness in the grand scheme of the universe.”

“You’re not meaningless, Fareeha.” Satya rolls her eyes and turns to the electrical panel on the wall. “You work toward maintaining order for as long as you can, rather than succumbing to chaos. That means something. Some would say that means everything.”

Something clicks all of a sudden, as she recalls Satya’s investigation of the teacup the day before. Before she can make any comment on it, Satya beckons her over to the wall.

“Would you mind telling me what is wrong with this?”

 _That_ she can do. Fareeha crosses the room and examines the mess of wires behind the panel.

“Looks like wild rats got to it, plus just regular wear and tear, corrosion... It’ll take some time for me to figure out which wires can be salvaged, but once I get all the wall panels off, that'll be a piece of cake.”

“Excellent. I'll continue inventory while you do that.”

And that's what they do for the rest of the morning. Using her toolkit, Fareeha goes panel by panel, labeling, stripping, and snipping wires. She uses a grease pencil to make notes on the inside of the panels for later. Satya delicately pries open wooden and metal crates with a hard light crowbar. As always, Satya doing anything means there's an element of grace and precision applied that would otherwise be absent. It looks like she's keeping notes on her tablet, working her way through the contents meticulously. Her headset fits snugly on her head, playing music that Fareeha can’t hear.

It’s just as well since Fareeha has her own music playing quietly from her phone. She's long since swapped her crew shirt for her tank top and tied the shirt around her waist. Her bangs are doing as much as they can to keep sweat out of her eyes. Over the hours, she's worked her way through the snarls and confusion of the wires in the walls and into the ceiling.

So when she hears her name called, Fareeha straightens up and immediately bumps her head on one of the rafters. She curses softly, then crawls toward the open tile in the ceiling until she can poke her head out, pulling her ventilator down as she does so.

“Yeah?”

Perched on one of the unopened crates, Satya fiddles with her tablet instead of answering for a such a long moment that Fareeha wonders if she’d imagined her name being called. Her patience is rewarded, however, with a question.

“Fareeha, you call me ‘Saty’. Surely you’re aware of how unusual that is?”

This is going to be a _conversation_. Preparing to descend the ladder, Fareeha wipes the sweat off her brow and dusts the debris off her bare arms with a rag. “Uh, I hadn’t thought of it like that, but yes?”

Satya looks up, gaze piercing. “Then why?”

“Why not?” Fareeha nearly falls off the ladder as she slaps a hand over her mouth in a belated attempt to stem the snark. “I mean, I can stop. I never asked you if you wanted a nickname-”

“That is not what I said.”

Fareeha stops talking. She climbs down the ladder, waiting until she’s safely on the ground to look over at Satya expectantly.

“I was not asking you to stop. I am asking you _why._ If that causes you distress, the matter will be dropped.”

“Hey now, I’m not distressed. What do you take me for?” Fareeha laughs lightly, trying to forget the fact that she’s a _terrible_ liar. “I just never thought about it. I guess it’s...you know how we have call signs?”

Satya nods.

“I think I just like having using nicknames that are further removed from the battlefield. It’s always helped, you know? Reminds me that above all, everyone’s a person, not just a soldier or a callsign. Reminds me that they’re friends.” Fareeha pauses, realizing that she’s never quite put that into words before. She looks over at Satya, whose tablet illuminates the soft smile on her face. It’s just the corners of her lips that are upturned, but her eyes are shining with something earnest.

“That’s... very well-thought-out and meaningful. I confess I’ve never thought about a nickname serving another purpose aside from shorthand. First names have always served for friendly purposes.” Here Satya pauses to tuck her stylus behind her ear. “I suppose it stands to reason that I should call you by a nickname.”

“You don’t have to!” Fareeha waves her hand in the most nonchalant manner she can manage. “It’s just something that _I_ do-”

“Have I misunderstood? Would you not be more comforted to be called by a nickname? To be reminded that I see you beyond a soldier or a teammate?”

Fareeha coughs, head swimming from the sweltering heat. “It’s really not necessary.”

“I don’t mind making the adjustment for you.”

Fareeha can feel her brain shorting out; she squeaks in embarrassment, then covers it up with more hurried coughing. “You don’t have to go out of your way—”

“No one else calls me by a nickname. It stands to reason I could return the favor to the one person who does. By all accounts, it would not be difficult. What would you prefer?”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Finish fixing the air conditioner. I won’t speak of it until you do.”

So that’s what Fareeha tries to do. Until she finds of course, that at least two major components of the unit have rusted away and a length of tubing has turned to hard rubber. When a filter crumbles into dust in her hands, Fareeha gives up on fixing the unit and instead makes notes of all the replacements they’ll need to order.

By the time she climbs out of the ceiling again, Fareeha’s covered in a layer of dust, coolant, and grime. She has a list as long as her arm- literally, the part numbers are written on the inside of her forearm- and she takes care to keep it from smudging as she backs her way out of the roof’s crawl space.

Satya’s still absorbed in her music when Fareeha approaches so she reaches out until her hand is within Satya’s line of sight.

She slips her headset off, expression hopeful. Fareeha holds up her arm in response.

“We’re going to need to order some things before the AC can get fixed. And none of that fancy medical equipment-,” she gestures at some of the machinery that Satya’s unboxed. “-can function in here at these temperatures, so I’m kind of at a standstill until we can get these in.”

Satya squints at the writing but it’s pretty clear that the serial numbers don’t mean much to her. “Are these expensive?”

“Depends? I’ll have to ask Winston what funds we can allocate. Might be able to find some of these in Spain, others we’ll order from further out.” She shrugs, taking a closer look at the numbers and trying to ring up a total in her head. When Satya doesn’t say anything, she looks up to find herself on the receiving end of a very critical once-over.

“You’re…positively filthy.”

Coming from anyone else it would be an insult, but from Satya, it’s just an observation. Fareeha laughs, taking a step back and dusting herself off a bit more. “Crawling around in a ceiling will do that.”

“Please, go shower. There’s nothing else to be done for the day.” She gestures to the remaining crates stacked around the room. “I’ll finish this. Perhaps you can check in with Winston?”

Fareeha tosses Satya a snappy salute and heads outside. She’s only a few steps away from the building when the thought occurs to her to remind Satya not to overwork herself, but when she pokes her head back in, Satya is already reabsorbed in her work. Resolving to text her later, Fareeha heads off to shower and chat with Winston.

To his credit, Winston is sympathetic to the _idea_ of making the auxiliary buildings fully functional for the main base, but he makes an excellent point about air conditioner components being in high demand for the next few months as the summer winds down. Fareeha can’t help but agree that their limited funds should be spent in other spheres, such as the impromptu mission that she’s apparently leading later that afternoon.

She leaves Winston’s office with the mission briefing, curious as to what kind of reconnaissance Lucio, Jesse, and she will be up to in France. Their train doesn’t leave for another two hours though. She does a quick bit of math in her head and shoots a quick text to Angela.

 _headed out in 2h, gettin ready now_ **_1:34pm_ **

_b back later 2nite? after midnight probably, jsyk_ **_1:34pm_ **

**_1:36pm_ ** _Oh, that’s such short notice!_

 **_1:37pm_ ** _I can finish this last set and we can have lunch._

 **_1:37pm_ ** _If you’d like?_

Fareeha smiles. _I’m really not the one having trouble staying away, am I?_

 _of course :)_ **_1:37pm_ **

That doesn’t really leave her with much time, so Fareeha picks up the pace, hurrying back to her room to don something more appropriate for the task ahead. Grey slacks and a matching blazer over a soft mint blouse do the trick. It’s not her usual mission attire, but as she adds a hint of make-up and fixes up her hair, Fareeha likes to think it’s just a different sort of armor- one better suited to civil diplomacy.

In the kitchen, she finds Lucio dressed in a similarly fancy outfit: a smart vest, dress shirt, and neatly pressed slacks. He grins around his granola bar, adjusting his cuffs and nodding approvingly at Fareeha’s outfit.

“Looking great, Fareeha, as always.”

Fareeha slings her blazer over her shoulder and twirls in place with a laugh. It’s not until she notices Lucio grinning widely that she looks over her shoulder.

Angela must have arrived just a moment after she did. Even if her wings weren’t puffed out, the rising blush would give away the depths of Angela’s approval. She coughs politely, resettling her wings and trying to hide a small smile.

“I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m a little underdressed,” Angela says, crossing the kitchen to kiss Fareeha on the cheek. Fareeha grins, ruffling the blonde’s hair until she ducks away.

Lunch isn’t the sort of affair it was the day before. There’s plenty of leftovers, which are both cost-and-space-saving to eat, though Angela does toss together a salad while Fareeha warms up the chili. She watches Angela gather the vegetables and chop them distractedly. Though she’s babbling about her research, her heart is clearly not in it, so Fareeha waits until she clears her throat and speaks about what is truly on her mind.

Angela pauses, knife held over the head of romaine lettuce. “Would I be a poor sport if I asked whether Satya ate lunch?”

“Why would you be-” Fareeha pauses, a spoon of warm chili in her mouth as she considers an answer to her own question. “No?”

“I mean, to ask her.” Angela glances her way as if the eye contact changes the meaning of her question.

Fareeha blinks. “Again, no?”

Lucio snorts behind them, but when Fareeha turns, he waves his phone, citing cat videos. She turns back to Angela who has busied herself with shaking the salad bowl to mix the vegetables together.

“Satya’s not the one operating on self-imposed rules,” Fareeha reminds her quietly. When Angela simply opens the salad tupperware to inspect it, Fareeha gives in. “ _Are_ you asking?”

“Well, I don’t want to be annoying. I know she’s busy.”

“Ange, we’re all busy.” Fareeha grabs an extra bowl from the cabinet. “We still need to eat. And it can’t hurt to ask.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Angela huffs and digs out her phone. Fareeha watches her wings for a moment, but she doesn’t flick them. If anything, the slight fluff to them speaks of relief.

Fareeha sets the bowl down and wanders over to Angela’s side where she’s sitting, considering Satya’s contact on the screen. She sighs as Fareeha slips an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m trying not to forget, you know?”

“I know. Trust me for a second?”

“Always.”

Fareeha smiles, reaching out to the phone and flicking her fingers over the video call button. It rings a couple of times, bringing up a small image of Fareeha and Angela in the corner. Fareeha grins impishly, then tugs Angela close, squishing her cheek against her own. On the phone, she can see Angela’s startled expression. Fareeha makes a silly face as Satya picks up the phone and its silliness is only amplified by Angela visibly processing the sudden gesture.

To her delight, Satya, after a brief expression of confusion, bursts into giggles. The camera shakes as she tries to restrain her laughter but it doesn’t really work. Angela’s confused expression gives way to a startled smile and Fareeha just grins wider. Overall, a successful move.

Angela stammers through an invitation to lunch, just barely managing to make it sound like a suggestion and not some sort of doctorly advice. Satya looks over her shoulder at the mess of the warehouse while they wait for her response. The look on her face is nothing short of a pout.

“I did have an early breakfast.” She smiles at the camera, shifting it as she stands. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

And so Satya joins them for lunch. She unearths a bag of tortilla chips from her pantry and brings them over to the kitchen island where they’re sitting. Angela passes her the salad and their lunch goes just about the same way as their breakfast did.

Fareeha tries to ignore the time as the meal wears on, complete with Lucio leaving the room, stealing a handful of chips from the bag as he goes. Satya swats at him half-heartedly as he dodges. For a nice twenty minutes, it’s just the three of them chatting absently. Then Lucio comes back in.

“Fareeha, you do know we gotta _drive_ to the train station, right?” He leans on the counter, popping a stolen chip in his mouth. Fareeha waves him off. She’s highly aware that the time is slipping away from her. She drags a chip along the bottom of her chili bowl.

“‘Ree, we ain’t got time for you to be loungin’ around, eatin’ fancy three-course meals,” Jesse’s drawl reaches them before he even walks into the kitchen. He leans on the doorframe, dressed in dark mission gear, not unlike his Blackwatch garb of old. He tips his hat toward Satya and Angela. “Afternoon, ladies.”

Satya nods politely; Angela just rolls her eyes. Fareeha sighs, pushing the stool back from the kitchen island. “Alright, I’m coming. You two are relentless, interrupting a lunch date.”

“What? Satya’s allowed to interrupt, but I ain’t?” Jesse clutches his heart and slumps against the wall dramatically. “Woe is me! I’ve been replaced.”

“Satya’s allowed because she’s not an absolute hooligan.” Angela rises out of her chair and gives Fareeha a quick peck on the lips. “Come back safe, _liebling._ ”

“Don’t I always?” Fareeha pulls back with a grin. Angela flicks a wing out to cuff Fareeha gently.

“Fareeha isn’t dressed for a combat assignment. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Satya blinks, then turns to look at Angela closely. Fareeha pauses behind them both, hand hovering just over Satya’s shoulder to bid her farewell. “Angela, are you suggesting I am a hooligan of less than perfect pedigree?”

There’s a glimmer in Satya’s eyes that Angela clearly doesn’t notice because her wings flare with embarrassment. Fareeha sidesteps them and scratches gently between Angela’s shoulder blades, trying to soothe her.

“Hey Saty, be gentle with her.” Fareeha lets her hand rest on Satya’s shoulder. “She’s been in the lab for six hours.”

Satya raises an eyebrow, twisting so she can regard Fareeha properly over her shoulder. “I’ve been in a warehouse for six and a half.”

“That’s not even true.” Fareeha nudges her shoulder playfully; Satya hums. “And even if it were, all the better reason to get off her back.”  

“But it’s not possible to sit on Angela’s back.” Satya deadpans.

_Never let it be said that Satya has no sense of humor._

This time, Satya’s grin is not nearly so well hidden and Angela starts sputtering. Confident that Angela will recover from her tired, yet endearing, obliviousness, Fareeha follows Jesse and Lucio out of the kitchen and doesn’t stop laughing until she’s halfway down the hallway.

The jeep that awaits their trio is discreet; a basic silver coat of paint covers its exterior. As Athena raises the garage door, it glimmers in the relentless afternoon sun. Fareeha unlocks it and they clamber in. Lucio slides the briefcase with their documents under his seat. Behind her, Fareeha can hear Jesse checking the magazine of Peacekeeper.

“Cheer up, buttercup. The belles’ll be fine without ya.” Jesse stretches out in the backseat as Fareeha starts the jeep. It shudders from side to side as the engine rumbles to life. In the passenger seat, Lucio straps in, adjusting his vest to sit neatly under the seat belt. She glances at the rearview mirror but Jesse already has his hat over his eyes.

“What? Of course, they will.” She grins and takes the turn out of the garage a little too quickly for someone not strapped into the bench seat. Jesse grunts. “You’re just poor company. I’m lamenting my loss, not theirs.”

That gets a laugh from Lucio who holds out a fist to be bumped. Fareeha returns the gesture, keeping her eyes on the road. He reaches over to fiddle with the music and she’s grateful for it, but the radio doesn’t help drown out her thoughts as much as she would like.

 _Just two seconds,_ she thinks, allowing her gaze to stray to the disappearing watchpoint in the side mirror. Then Fareeha takes a deep breath and forces herself to keep her thoughts on the task ahead.

Duty calls. Only after it’s finished can Fareeha return to who she’s missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Back in late April, when this chapter started giving me grief, I put it down and reasoned I'd pick it up later. Then other things happened. It started with passing the torch to underclassmen at my jobs, then passing my classes, then graduation, then moving back home, then moving halfway across the country, and starting a new life and a new job as a teacher. So I'm currently in training to be a teacher. I'm teaching summer school and I'll be teaching high school starting August 1st! So I've been busy these last few months. It's wild.
> 
> That being said, writing is my passion but I have not had as much time or energy for it with this all going on. Back when I was convinced senior year wouldn't be as bad as junior year (when I wrote SFV), I thought I could keep this on a schedule. I cannot. :( And I'm terribly sorry for that. I wish there was a way I could promise that my life would calm down a little bit and I would have concrete time to write when I shouldn't be doing other things (such as right now when I should be either sleeping or lesson planning!), but I can't really do that.
> 
> I wrote a similar note on SFV and it still holds true. _I love this fic. I love everything about it and I will not abandon it. Updates may be few and far between but they will come. It just might take a little while._ That goes for all my fics. (I put everything else on hold to finish this chapter, so they will be coming out at various points.)
> 
> As always I thank you for your patience and leniency. <3 I will continue to deliver...just not as regularly as I once thought I could.


	5. scintilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _n. a tiny trace or spark of a feeling_  
>   
>  Alone with her thoughts once more, Satya tries to make sense of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, day 2 comes to a close and gives way to the dawn of day 3...

_It’s not you._

Fareeha’s words continued to echo in Satya’s thoughts as she and Angela finished lunch, cleaned up and walked together through the watchpoint, parting ways only when their paths diverged. Satya returned to the warehouse after pausing for a moment in the hallway to take a _very_ deep breath.

She is _imagining_ Angela’s flustered demeanor and twisting hands and nibbled lip and fluttering wings. Perhaps not imagining, no. But misattributing it to herself. Angela’s worried about research and herself and perhaps Fareeha being off-base.

_Not because I was somewhere that she asked me not to be… even though she asked me to be there…_

Satya stares at the cracked door of the warehouse and thinks of the rest of the unopened storage boxes. Before lunch, it was easy enough to return to work, even without Fareeha’s constant comforting presence.

Her brow crinkles as she considers getting back to the task at hand. It’s not exactly cool in there either. Satya takes a step back from the door, then another. She circles the building until she finds the ladder to the roof. Kicking off her shoes, she jumps to reach the first rung and lets herself dangle before pulling herself up and climbing the whole way.

From the roof, she can see the side of the watchpoint and the door that leads back into the building. She retraces her steps in her mind’s eye, thinking back on the morning. It seems like a million years ago when she’d offered…

Satya blinks.

When she’d offered...to allow Fareeha to watch her dance.

_Oh, heavens._

Satya faces the sea, watching waves of blue and green lap gently at the buoys offshore. That poses a conundrum.

_What was I thinking?_

She can count on one hand how many times she’s used the watchpoint studio in the last couple of months. It’s much easier to dance in her room where she’s arranged her furniture around the open space, but it’s not as if she’s going to _invite Fareeha into her room._

Remembering the look on her face, she sighs. Fareeha will not forget so easily.

Satya shifts from foot to foot on the hot roof, falling into an easy rhythm. _Right, left, right, heel. Left, right, left, heel._ Perhaps the most basic of movements she knows. What better way to think about dance than to do so while dancing?

 _Dancing on rooftops…_ Satya shakes her head, but the silliness doesn't stop her. She turns and double checks that she has enough room to dance safely.

It's a dance she could do in her sleep, one of the first dances she'd ever performed as a child, scarcely school age.

Humming aloud to keep time, Satya remembers how nerve-wracking that performance had been, being watched by every member of her family and then some. A chance to prove herself.

It's a comfort now to do it perfectly.

By the time she finishes, she's breathless, dizzy with exertion and nauseous from lunch. She feels better than when she started, even if this issue with the offer has not been quite resolved.

Satya peers over the edge where her shoes lay abandoned beneath the ladder. Perhaps it's the perspective or the sea breeze or the dizziness, but in that moment, Satya realizes the solution.

Fareeha can watch, yes, but she'll also have to _learn._

* * *

After breaking the flow of the morning's work so completely, Satya heads down to the beach to watch the waves and search for small sea creatures. A simple chair in the shade of the cliffs lends a little too easily to an afternoon nap. After rinsing the sand from her feet and helping with the tail end of dinner preparation, she spends the meal listening to Lena chatter about her vacation with Emily.  

Satya likes to listen to Lena talk; there's no space to get a word in edgewise, which is fine by her. Lena never seems to expect the little nods and grunts and hums that everyone else does; Satya only comments when she truly has a question. They can sit like this for hours. And as such, Lena is one of the few people on base who can be counted on to listen when Satya's in need of an ear.

As Lena wraps up and they wash the dishes together, Satya can't help be reminded that such people who allow her to skirt the rules are few and far between; almost all of them live at this base.

By the time Satya realizes where that thought train is going, it's too late to stop it.

 _Angela is supposed to be one of those people._ Satya makes a noise low in her throat, earning a worried look from Lena.

“You alright, luv?”

“I think I touched something in the water.” Satya shudders theatrically. Lena raises an eyebrow at the long rubber gloves she's wearing to prevent that very predicament. “I could still feel the texture. Through the glove.”

Lena does not look convinced. “Right. If you need an ear, I'm here. Something happen while I was gone?”

Satya wants to blurt everything out in one breath. Instead, she just exhales. “I'm not even sure how to explain it.”

“Is there _anything_ I can do?” Lena dries her hands off as Satya fumbles for the drain plug. Her gloves come off with a quiet sucking sound as the drain slurps down the dingy water.

“I think I just…” Satya bites her tongue. “I need some baking time, but thank you.”

_I don't even understand this myself yet._

Lena high-fives her, presumably for their cooperation with the dishes. “Ooh, looking forward the results then! But really-”

“When things are clearer, you’ll be one of the first to know.”

Lena's gaze is sympathetic, almost unbearably so. “Alright. Don't fret too much though.”

The smile that Satya offers is small but genuine. Lena slips out, quoting a need to see why Winston skipped dinner.

Satya pulls her hair back and pulls out flour and other ingredients. The methodical movements of mixing and kneading the dough distract her for a while, but after she puts the tins into the oven, cleans all the utensils, unloads the dishwasher, wipes down the counters, cleans the floor, and sets the bread out to cool, Satya runs out of distractions.

There are rules to every social engagement, so this situation with Angela is truly no different. It has the same annoyances and pitfalls that every other social convention has. The rules are arbitrary, confusing, and frustrating. Namely, no one else seems to properly follow them, even though, as rare as it may be, these rules are clearly written.

In the case of this  _experiment_ , the goal is for Angela to determine if she can be self-sufficient to a point, only reaching out when she herself cannot function or solve a problem by herself. That Satya understands.

Of course, this apparently cannot go both ways. Angela is still allowed and even emboldened, to worry about Satya, but Satya is not allowed to worry about Angela. Satya is supposed to wait for Angela to reach out, as she did earlier at lunch. Or was that Fareeha’s idea? It seemed impolite to ask at the time. Anyhow, Satya shouldn’t be concerning herself with Angela’s wings unless she asks specifically.

Don’t pester her about her supplements.

Don’t remind her of her increased dietary needs.

Don’t point out that she started this independence venture on a Thursday which is one of the two days each week when her progress tracker should be updated! Don’t point out that it hasn’t been updated, even though it’s already Friday night.

Don’t ask to pet her wings.

Don’t wander over to the medical wing to see how she’s doing.

Don’t automatically make extra of whatever she’s baking so Angela can keep it close at hand if she needs something to snack on...

Satya glares at a loaf of sweet coconut bread sitting on the cooling rack, next to four other loaves. One for herself, one for Fareeha, two for the team to enjoy and one for Angela…

Giving Angela’s loaf to the team seems like a waste with the watchpoint already so empty. Finishing two before they spoil would make Satya sick. The same would be said for Fareeha but she loves them so much so it might not be an issue. The true issue with giving two to Fareeha lay solely in admitting that she broke the rule, or worse, appearing as if she is trying to skip around it by assuming that Fareeha would give the extra one to Angela.

Which she probably would.

Satya wrinkles her nose in displeasure. This experiment causes too much unnecessary distress. It's not just Angela's _wings_ that she cares about. It's no use explaining this to Angela, of course. Against all reason, and though she tries to hide it, the doctor still sees her wings as a separate entity. And quite frankly, Satya would feel more insulted that Angela seemed to think Satya's care only applied to them and not the person they were attached to, if it were not for the fact that the only one of three who didn't need glasses was the most myopic of them all.

A fact of which Satya has been reminding herself of constantly for about a full day now.

_She doesn't mean anything by it. It's not personal. It’s not me._

Satya turns away from the stove and focuses on texting Fareeha about her loaf.

 _thank you for your assistance today. i baked one of your favorites._ **_10:35pm_ **

_[a picture of four of five loaves, carefully obscuring the last]_ **_10:36pm_ **

_it's warm._ **_10:39pm_ **

She stares blankly at her phone’s screen, flicking her fingers against the countertop.

The mission. _Of course. It must have run late._ She can only hope that Fareeha’s phone is turned off. Satya drags a hand over her face at the thought of ruining a clandestine mission for _bread._

Despite the severity of such an incident, Satya has to hold back a giggle at the absurdity of the thought. Even though it’s fairly late for base standards, there could be some sort of late night function Fareeha’s attending, considering how dressed up her and Lucio were. Being interrupted by a friendly text message about bread while talking to a foreign dignitary is _not_ funny.

Satya swallows the last of her laughter and reaches for the food wrap. The solution comes to her as she’s wrapping the fifth, unlabeled loaf. She sighs, writing the name on the sticker that holds the wrapping in place. She’ll bear Ana’s teasing, but it’s a lesser consequence than any other option.

With four loaves sitting on the counters to await their owners, Satya tucks the fifth under her arm and lets her feet take her where they may.

That is down one flight of stairs and two doors from the end of the subterranean hallway to a small room, no bigger than even the roomiest of custodial closets. What always belays perception of its true size is the panel of mirrors that stretch along the longest wall.

Satya slips her shoes off at the door, sighing as she places her tote on the floor and the bread on it. A gentle finger on the control panel near the door brings the lights up. Satya steps out on the floor, tracing fondly over where hard light patches holes in the bamboo flooring.

Her first project.

_“This is a disgrace,” Satya had muttered to herself upon stepping into the abandoned dance studio on one of her late night wanderings. “How can the rooms above receive so much attention and yet this one none at all?”_

_“Was that a question, Ms. Vaswani?”_

_Satya definitely did not jump upon hearing Athena's smooth voice out of the control panel on the wall. “Athena. I would not have thought you would be able to function in a room that has fallen into such disrepair.”_

_“If the control panel had been across the room, perhaps. But seeing as my circuitry is confined to the wall nearest the hall, it is not a problem.” The A.I. seemed pleased by this fact._

_Satya nodded. “Then yes, it was a question.”_

_“Only the rooms that receive use are deemed important for repair. Unfortunately, the dance studio is not a high priority.”_

_Satya frowned, stepping out onto the floor, but not before removing her shoes._

_“I do not think the removal of your shoes is advised when the floor is in this condition, Ms. Vaswani.”_

_Satya paused only slightly. “Thank you for your concern, Athena, but it is still a dance space.” She hummed, marveling at the A.I.'s inclination to care about her well-being. “But I will be careful.”_

_Her arm remained a point of personal contention, so she relied on her steps to keep her balanced as she walked the length of the studio, assessing the damage._

_“Athena, this is all very simple to repair. The mirrors, the degrading floor, the leak…” Satya edged around a water-damaged depression and peered upward at the low ceiling where the tile bulged in. “I could fix this…”_

_Athena buzzed lightly and Satya smiled. It was such a human sound. “Will you be using this space then?”_

_Looking down at her hand, Satya grimaced. To use the studio would mean to fix the studio and to fix the studio would mean to use hard light to do so._

_To use her other arm._

_“I believe I will,” Satya said slowly, picking her way back across the floor. “I… I do know how to fix things after all.”_

_She would start there._

Her repairs were still holding nicely, smooth blue hard light melding with tan wood panels. Satya reaches over and smacks the bar out of habit, feeling petty even as she does so. _And to think Vishkar put so much emphasis on Western dance styles. For shame._

 _“_ Athena, would you mind pairing the sound system with my phone?”

“Of course not, Ms. Vaswani,” Athena not only does that but puts on her usual dance playlist.

Satya stretches carefully, then begins to dance. By the third song, she has reservations about teaching Fareeha anything.

Fareeha is not exactly graceful. Her power and strength lend well to control of her suit, borne from her military background. It is not that she is _clumsy,_ just...rigid.

There's but so much she can do about it now. Another solution will come to her before the time comes. Satya flips her hair over her shoulder and keeps dancing.

Satya dances well into the morning, after a while simply dancing for herself, rather than to refresh beginner steps. There are so many routines that she hasn't had the time to practice but the steps flow like water from memory. It's effortless, predictable, and timeless. From styles to songs, there is no end.

Until she realizes she's been dancing to the same song at least twice in a row.

“Athena?” Satya comes to a stop mid-turn, body poised with her feet crossed and her arms in the air. The music comes to a gradual end, softening until Satya can only hear herself breathing.

Athena finally answers. “My apologies, Ms. Vaswani, but the current time is 2:37 a.m. My other attempts to notify you of the time were unheard.”

“Oh.” Satya attempts to slow her breathing. Sweat gathers at her brow, dripping perilously close to her eyes. She wipes it off with her fingertips and examines herself in the mirror. Her jumper is nearly soaked through with sweat.  “Oh…”

_How irresponsible._

Not one to skirt further responsibility, Satya dances silently through a set of cooldown stretches until she feels comfortable with walking back to her room. Each step makes her all too aware of how very little energy she has.

It's past three when she finally crawls into bed, clean but exhausted.

It's past five when she wakes gasping for air and clawing at her blankets. The details of the dream scatter as she jolts upright, nearly knocking everything off of her nightstand in the process. What remains are her trembling hands and a knot of emotions that sink in her stomach.

Standing on shaky legs, Satya pulls on leggings and long-sleeved tunic, not bothering with shoes. She's so set on a cup of chai and a breath of fresh air that she doesn't realize the kitchen is not deserted at this hour as she'd assumed.

Satya tries to compose herself before her distress becomes obvious, slowly bringing her hands out of her hair as if she'd been casually combing her fingers through it.

“Miss Satya?” Reinhardt notices her first and pauses, holding the bread knife over a loaf of coco bread. His rumbling baritone exudes calm.

That, in turn, gets Ana's attention, who crosses the kitchen before Satya can get any ideas about simply abandoning the tea and fleeing. “Need some tea, dear?”

“Yes, I-” Ana always seems like she should be taller than she actually is. Satya feels small, even as her gaze wanders from her shoulders to the soft wrinkles on her cheeks.

“Reinhardt, put the kettle on. We'll be back in a bit.”

Baffled, Satya lets herself be dragged by the hand down the hallway, all the way to the south gym, where the training mats are soft under her feet. Ana throws her a pair of mitts and Satya swallows, one anxiety replaced by another.

“You should know better than to always skip close combat training and show up in sparring clothes in front of me.”

“That was not on purpose.” Satya glares at Ana as she tilts her chin up— a typically comforting touch that now only makes her feel worse.

“Perhaps, but you look like you need to hit something.”

She turns on heel, going back the way she came. “I don't need _violence_ . I need _tea.”_

 _“_ You're a mess, _‘inayya,_ ” Ana calls after her. “Messes shouldn't have tea until they hit something.”

“And I suppose that something would be you?” Satya stops but doesn't turn around.

“That _was_ the idea.”

The tension leaks out of Satya's shoulders as she thinks about that. “I'd rather not. Truly.”

“Tea will do you no good.”

Satya turns, suddenly more confused than ever. “It's calming. It clarifies things. It brings peace and contemplation! You say it does no good and yet you brought me tea just yesterday!”

If Ana notices she's forgotten to account for the recent change in days, she doesn't mention it.

“Because I thought you were confused.” Ana smiles sadly, holding a hand out to Satya.

“Am I not?” She takes five steps toward Ana, then sinks to the plush floor.

“Am I offering you tea?” The older woman chuckles, taking the gloves from Satya and sitting on the floor with her. “I’m not always right. How do you feel right now?”

“Frustrated.” _Anxious. Bad. Conflicted. Distant. Exhausted-_

“At?”

“Myself.” _To start with._

“For?”

“I don't know.” _But I do._

Ana hands the gloves back. “All tea is going to do is calm you down until you get upset again. You're not going to fix anything.”

Satya stares at the gloves. They're worn down in places, with the black fabric tattering. The velcro looks dusty and cluttered. There's a chance they're at least half her age.

“It was just a nightmare, Ana.”

Ana gets to her feet and helps her up. “I'm sure it was, dear.” The way she says this lets Satya know she doesn't believe any of this is simply about a nightmare. “Now hit me.”

Satya cannot hit her, as it turns out. Ana ducks the first punch and the second, dipping underneath Satya's reach and forcing Satya to turn. She feints just enough to remind her that Satya's an easy target if she puts her arms down, but Ana never actually hits her.

It's not until Satya finally lands a punch on her shoulder that she stops in surprise, breathing harshly. “There. I hit you.”

Ana grins. “Don't be silly,Satya. That's one. Four more.”

Challenges, as it were, are easy enough to focus on. Satya gets better at it. They aren't hard hits or well-placed. It's more like fencing than boxing in this way and much more tiring.

“Hit me two more times.” She does.

“Now four more.” She does.

“Now another three.”

“No.” Satya glares at Ana and lets her arms fall to the side. “Stop changing the rules.”

“Why? It's the same rule-”

“No, it's not! Not for me! It's entirely different!" The expectations are different and when they aren't clear, nothing is!”

Ana raises an eyebrow and begins to take her gloves off. Satya simmers silently, beginning to realize how she'd been tricked. It takes all of her self-restraint not to strip her gloves off and toss them.

_Don't be petulant._

“How could you have thought this was a good idea?” Satya doesn't have the energy to specify but there's no question that they're no longer talking about the sparring match.

“I took a risk-”

“For something that doesn't affect you!”

“Perhaps, but at least one of you needed to learn. And it was not the _worst_ case scenario.”

 _Learn what?_ But Satya bites her tongue and thinks. _How could this have gone any worse?_

Angela could have simply taken charge of her own health without the pomp and circumstance. Satya would have been surprised, but not argumentative. Fareeha would have accepted it easily as well. Everything would have stayed almost exactly as it was.

But then again, Angela pulling away and pushing Satya out of her role _without_ warning _?_

_That would have been so much worse…_

“Angela doesn't hate me, I already know that. I am not that… naive,” Satya mutters. “This had nothing to do with me. It's just...”

“So she tried to do this in the most painless way she knows how.” Ana takes the gloves from her. “She doesn't know it's not working as intended.”

Satya narrows her eyes. “How could she not?”

“Because no one's told her.” Ana swats at her with the gloves. “Is it bothering Fareeha?”

“Of course not-”

“Is it bothering me?”

“Nothing bothers you.” Satya allows herself a wry smile when Ana guffaws.

“Is it bothering you?”

The words catch in her throat. Even after all this, to admit it plainly is simply too much. Instead, she nods.

Ana only leans back and smiles wider. “And yet you've barely talked to her. So how would she know? You look for structural instabilities in your relationships and you see them, perhaps even before a problem starts. But Angela's a scientist. Sometimes, she won't see a problem until there's data to support it.”

Satya cannot help but tilt her head in confusion. _That seems counterintuitive at best. Surely Angela would not be so—_

“Do you want to know a secret about Angela?” Ana doesn't give her a chance to answer, even as Satya opens her mouth to say no. “She can hardly read her own mind, so don't ever expect her to read yours.”

“I _don't_ expect her to read my mind. She has a right to make decisions and I-”

_Just deal with them._

_Fail to cope with them._

_Make her needs a priority._

“You?” Ana waits patiently as Satya turns the situation over and over in her mind.

“I shouldn't be so bothered by them.” She shivers. Without the constant motion of the sparring, her thin outfit provides little warmth.

“But you are.”

“But I don't know why.”

“Not knowing the absolute root cause of an issue is not a good reason to forgo addressing the issue altogether.”

Perplexed, Satya takes a deep breath—

And Ana cuts her off. “Alright, the session's over. Go get your tea. I think you're ready for it now.”

“Wha-?”

“Shoo, I've said all I can. You. Tea. _Now._ ” Ana herds her out the gym door and shuts it behind her. In the absence of anything else that makes sense, Satya walks back to the kitchen.

There, Reinhardt thanks her for the bread- he’s eaten half of Ana’s loaf it seems- and directs her to the steaming kettle. Weary of entirely too much talking, Satya fixes a cup of valerian and lavender before anything else can go awry.

Back in her room, she sips at it, letting the warm liquid slide down her throat. Gradually her hands stop trembling, especially as she wraps herself tightly in her blankets. With the blinds down and her white noise set to play indefinitely, she can almost pretend it's evening.

The terror and anger of the nightmare have long since disappeared. The frustration that filled her thoughts has leached out, soothed by a concrete plan of action. All that remains is the central kernel that Satya has no energy to examine: _why did this upset me so much?_

 _Both Fareeha and Ana have been a great comfort, but that,_ Satya decides _, I will figure out myself._

Now all that remains is to speak with Angela about how this debacle has made her feel.

When, where, and how are yet to be decided.

But for now, Satya burrows under the covers, forgoes the rest of her morning, and sinks gratefully back into the embrace of a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for your patience and understanding ;u;  
> Some Notes~  
> > _'inayya_ = my light, ana's affectionate nickname for satya  
> > everyone say "hi reinhardt!"  
> > *pounding on my desk* _female friendships, femALE FRIENDSHIPS, FE-_  
>  i love writing female friendships okay. it's important to me to allow satya to have friends okay. lena and mei are impossible to not be friends with, listen.  
> > as i delve deeper into satya and her thoughts, it's a simple fact that you're gonna see some parts of the related stress and non-pretty parts of being autistic and that's just the gospel truth. obvs there is no one way to be autistic; a lot is drawn from my own experiences, some things are not.  
> > additional headcanon: if she likes to eat it, satya knows how to cook it.  
> > FACT: coco bread is delicious


	6. balter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _v. to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment_  
>   
>  Fareeha arrives back at the watchpoint a little sleepy, but full of energy.  
> It's a good thing. Because she's going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back!  
> Part of the reason this chapter took so long was because of how much research I did because I wanted to get it _just_ right. _That being said, I am very, very open to feedback about how I handled kathak._ I am not a scholar of Indian classical dances. I just spent a lot of time on the internet reading up on it and watching lots and lots of videos. Even since I outlined this way back when, one of the main reasons this scene takes place from Fareeha's POV is because she's just as new to it as I am. To be clear, dance, specifically Indian Classical Dance and kathak, is one of Satya's special interests and she _is_ info-dumping to Fareeha. It's just not written out. That being said, my intention here was not to lecture/educate on something in which I have no authority. 
> 
> Satya’s caliber of expertise: https://youtu.be/Fz_Tpp0q73A  
> What Satya's trying to teach Fareeha, more or less, with varying levels of success: https://youtu.be/MFWFG9kk-H0 or https://youtu.be/3xqIjzoYEKg
> 
> Aside from that, enjoy!

**Saty**

**Yesterday ✦ 10:35pm**

**_10:35pm_ ** _thank you for your assistance today. i baked one of your favorites._

 **_10:36pm_ ** _[a picture of four loaves of coco bread]_

 **_10:39pm_ ** _it's warm._

**7:33 am**

_oh coco bread!!!! looking forward to that yummyyyy_ **_7:33 a.m_ **

_u didnt have 2 but ty, i appreciate it_ **_7:33 a.m_ **

_we got our heads talked off but totally-not-ow has a new jet_ **_7:34 a.m_ **

_anyways sorry this is suuuuper late_ **_7:38 a.m._ **

_oh!  i thought of a good nickname but i figure youll wanna to hear it first_ **_8:02 a.m._ **

_when i get back :,) it's a long ride_ **_8:02 a.m._ **

* * *

“Hey Fareeha, wake up.”

Fareeha unfolds from her seat, swatting the poking finger away in annoyance. “That was a nice dream, you know.”

Jesse and Lucio peer over their seats at her as she properly wakes up. The gentle lull of the moving vehicle has stopped. Her suit, she realizes with a bit of annoyance, is thoroughly crumpled from the car ride. Nothing a bit of steam won’t fix, but still.

Lucio grins. “Yeah, but you could sleep in your own bed now.”

Fareeha rubs the last bits of sleep out of her eyes and, sure enough, the Jeep is once more parked in the Watchpoint garage.

“Oh. Right. Well, you guys go on ahead.” Stretching luxuriously, Fareeha holds a hand out for the briefcase. “ Let me go report to Winston; I need to stop by the lab anyway.”

Their tiny strike team parts ways as Fareeha takes the path out of the garage and along the outside perimeter, up to the roof, and into the research wing access door. Even though the Gibraltar base isn't necessarily a carbon copy of the others she'd spent years sneaking around, some routes were standard.

This roof access leads to a custodial closet at a halfway point between the research labs and the medical wing. Winston is the only person she can be sure to find in the research half, so heads there first.

It's not just Winston waiting for her though.

In a zippy flash of blue, Lena greets Fareeha with all the enthusiasm of a hummingbird and twice the speed, babbling at nearly unintelligible speeds.

“Did you get it? Fareeha, don't make me wait! Did you really get the jet? Do we have another jet, 'Ree?”

Fareeha toys with her for a moment, holding the briefcase over her head and out of Lena’s reach. That doesn’t stop Lena from trying to vault over her. Fareeha grins, finally bringing the case down and pulling out the dossier. It opens to the signed agreement. “I don't know. Does a restored and retrofitted antique Sea Harrier sound good to you?”

She has to laugh at how wide Lena's eyes go at the description. She gapes at the paper. “You're _kidding_. Winston, you goof! How could not mention this?”

Winston lopes over and Fareeha hands him the folder. “That's not what we were offered initially. I thought we were being given one of the larger transport units.”

“Luce and I are pretty persuasive.” The negotiations, all over tiny hor d'oeuvres and miniature flutes glasses of champagne that she'd sipped at, dragged on as Lucio spent a good four hours chatting music, charity and casual Belgian and international politics. Her explanation of Overwatch's new goals and vision, when carefully aligned with the donor's ideals, struck a chord.  As a duo, they worked well; Fareeha did most of the negotiations and Lucio provided the extensive pleasantry support.

“We came to an understanding with Jorgensen that a large transport jet wouldn't be as helpful since we still have the dropship. He's willing to trade us the Sea Harrier for it when we don't need it anymore.” Fareeha reaches over and shows the pictures of the jet's interior. “Apparently, he has them restored with modern instruments as an ‘apology to a good model retired too soon’. He'll have it delivered mid-September, if we don't mind his funny old Harrier.”

“Would we _ever_ ?” Lena guffaws, springing into the air. “Winston, we've _got_ to get someone else trained to fly. Jesse needs some tuning, too, honestly. But really, just one or two more couldn't hurt. What about Satya or Brigitte—?”

“We'll see, Lena…” Winston rumbles, grinning helplessly at Fareeha. Delighted, Fareeha tosses them a salute and heads out.

**Jesse, Lucio**

_lena’s losing it, great work u 2_ **_11:34am_ **

**_11:35am_ ** _u2 never made a great work in all of their career_

 **_11:37am_ ** _gee, is that finally a music opinion of yours i can get with??? call the press_

 **_11:38am_ ** _That's rich coming from the guy who thinks post-millennial country is good music… :/_

 _fun fact jesse doesn't even listen to country, he just says that bc it's On Brand™_ **_11:39am_ **

**_11:41am_ ** _blasphEMER_

 ** _11:43am_**  

 _anyhoo high five to luce for smooth talking, high five to jess for lurking in the shadows eating mini eclairs over comms_ **_11:45am_ **

**_11:46am_ ** _what did you expect me to do STARVE???_

 **_11:46am_ ** _and i made sure didn't get shot at yw_

 **_11:47am_ ** _thanks jesse XD_

 _oh yeah thanks jesse_ **_11:47am_ **

**_11:51am_ ** _ya buncha ingrates_

 

Phone in hand, Fareeha casually wanders the Watchpoint as this conversation happens, peeking into the labs and offices, then the med bay looking for Angela. She steps outside and heads to the warehouse, but doesn't find Satya there either. She wanders around for a bit, looking around nearby and simply enjoying the weather. She's just about to switch her text conversation off of Jesse and Lucio's friendly bickering when a shadow passes over her.

A huge shadow, far too large to be a bird.

Fareeha grins and looks up, shielding her eyes from the sun as Angela drops closer and lands with a thump.

“Ah, you're back!” She leaps into Fareeha's arms, wrapping her arms, legs, and wings around her. Fareeha buries her face in her hair, hugging back as tightly as she can; when comparing six limbs to two though, it's not much of a competition.

Angela is, to put it lightly, quite warm from flying and in the noon heat, it's not the greatest arrangement. Very carefully, Fareeha peels her away.

“I missed you too.”  Fareeha follows her words with a soft kiss and a moment just resting their foreheads together. “That took longer than we expected.”

“But it went well?”

“It did.”

Angela helps her out of her suit jacket and carries it on one arm.  Fareeha takes her free hand, swinging their arms as they stroll along the perimeter of the base.

Fareeha doesn't mention the warehouse as they near it, but Angela flutters nervously.

“How is it going in there? Really, if it's too much trouble, don't worry about it.”

 _Did_ _we ever mention which one it was?_ Fareeha raises an eyebrow at the scattered handful of warehouses along the cliffside. “We hit a snag. _You_ don't worry too much about it.”

Angela leans over and sighs. “But I _always_ worry. It's what I do.”

“Well, dial it back,” Fareeha says, carding her fingers through Angela's ponytail. “Or redirect it to yourself.”

“I am!” Angela bumps her hip.

“I see you're flying, that's good.” Fareeha side eyes Angela before continuing. “Seeing as I was gone longer than we thought, I suppose that means you had someone else scratch your wings.”

Though she doesn't stop walking, Angela stiffens.

“Because I know Saty wouldn't have minded.” Fareeha continues relentlessly.  “Or mom. Or Mei. Or-”

“They should've been fine.”

“They _should_ have,” Fareeha concedes, stopping to take Angela's other hand in hers. Blue eyes stay focused on the ground. “But your wings are doing the twitchy, antsy thing. And I know it's not because you haven't flown.”

“It's not supposed to be this often, you know that as well I do-”

“Okay, but Ange, it doesn't matter. Fix it first and then examine it later. It's not an experiment; it's your body.” She tilts her chin up, caressing her cheek softly. “Is something going on? This is way beyond your normal carelessness.”

“I don't like being dependent, you know that.” Angela pulls away, expression shuttered and wings pinned tight.

“It's been months though.” Fareeha suppresses the urge to run after her and waits for her to stop a few feet away. “We had a handle on this. This wasn't supposed to be about you doing everything yourself.”

“There’s no reason I should be this uncomfortable so soon. I wasn't even _trying_ to experiment with that and something went wrong. I can't do this if it's _every day_. Petting is okay every day if it's unnecessary—”

“But not if your wings demand it.” Fareeha sighs as a bit of clarity comes to the situation. “You're trying to wait it out?”

Frowning, she watches as Angela flexes her wings, a small tight agitated motion that's almost overshadowed by her rustling them heavily. “Yes. I thought if I waited, they might return to normal intervals…”

 _Oh,_ ya amar _, what is it you're not telling me?_

“How did you sleep?”

“I didn't really.” She shrugs. “I tried. Couldn't.”

“Does this have to do with lunch yesterday?”

“What?” She looks genuinely confused, so Fareeha drops it.

“Ange,” Fareeha starts, unbuttoning her vest and moving into the thin shadow of the warehouse to escape the heat. “You're doing kind of okay with this thing, but only with me. You realize that right?”

Angela's face twists unhappily. “I'm doing fine.”

“You're not-”

“They're getting a break from having to _help_ me all the time. That makes it fine.”

“You say that as if it's an issue for them to help you.”

Angela flutters in agitation, dragging her hands over her face. “I didn't just decide this. I could see it.”

 _Maybe it doesn't matter to mom but…_ Images of Satya's distraught workshop and frazzled state come to mind. _“_ You made an _assumption,_ Ange. You're acting like Satya or Mom are _you_ but they're not. You can't put yourself in their shoes when it’s really just your own shoes ”

“Don't—”

“What makes you think people don't like being around you?”

“Fareeha, have you _met_ me?”

“Yes, I have,” Despite her words, Fareeha can't help the frustration that leaks into her tone. “And I liked you so much that I want to marry you. Is _that_ the question you’re going with?”

That gives Angela pause and she shuffles closer. “Okay, that wasn't fair. At all.”

“No,” Fareeha agrees, letting the wall behind her hold her weight. “It wasn't.”

“I am...pity partying.” If Angela weren't a foot away, her words would be inaudible against the crying gulls and rumbling waves. “I apologize. This is a terrible time for me to be having this conversation. I should have stepped away and gone to sleep. I should have gone to someone else for help— Ana or Hana or Mei. I know I can ask—”

_What?_

Fareeha holds up a hand to get her to pause her rambling. “Okay, yes, you should have. Apology accepted. And yes, you should go get some sleep, after your wings get some attention but Ange?”

Angela looks up, exhaustion plain on her face. “Yes?”

Fareeha hesitates, seeing the quiet desperation in her eyes. It takes a moment—

_Why did you leave out Satya?_

_Do you realize who wasn't on that list?_

_Why do you_ always _assume Satya wouldn't like to help?_

_Do you think Satya resents you for needing her help?_

—to compose the least controversial question. Fareeha quirks her lips in a lopsided grin, trying to lessen the impact of the question. “You skipped someone, didn't you?”

Angela immediately looks away and when she finally answers, her words are rehearsed and monotonous. “No. I promised her I'd give her a break. I should stop bugging her and let her be. She has other things to do, you know.”

_Oh, for the love of—_

Fareeha takes a deep breath and slowly exhales out her nose.

Twice.

“I feel like we're gonna go in circles on this for hours. So maybe we should pause.”

“Yes, I need to sleep.” Angela rubs at her eyes. “I can't even do anything until my next batch is finished being coded and replicated. Could you do a few pass throughs please?”

“Yes, of course,” Fareeha kisses her gently on the forehead. “I can tell how much this has been bugging you.”

There's no point in specifying what _this_ is; what Fareeha means is surely not what Angela's thinking.

They stand quietly while Fareeha cards her fingers through Angela's feathers, trying to ignore the shaking of her shoulders.

_Ange, you have got to be kinder to yourself..._

“Can I say one more thing before you get some sleep?”

Angela draws in a shuddering breath, bringing her wings in. She turns and nods, unable to quite meet Fareeha's gaze. Instead of expecting that from her, Fareeha signs for a hug and Angela steps forward into her embrace without hesitation.

After a moment, Fareeha leans down and whispers into Angela's ear.

“Wings or no wings, you're _not_ a burden on anyone, least of all the three of us.”

Angela squeezes tighter, patting her back. After a moment, Fareeha realizes it's not just any pat, it's a clumsy approximation of their signs for ‘thank you’ and 'i love you’.

Then Angela hands her jacket back, places a salty kiss on Fareeha's lips and flies away, making a beeline for the dorms.

Fareeha watches her go, perplexed. _There's always more to worry about, more demons to fight, than what I can see._

It’s been less than three days, but with neither Angela nor Satya dealing with this well, Fareeha has to wonder if it's time to call this off.

* * *

By the time she gets back to her room to change and shower, Angela's buried under the blankets, with a clip securing the hole made to let her wings out. There's an extra lump and from the shape of it, she can tell it's poor Teddiursa, being squeezed to death.

But at least Angela's already snoring softly. The shower doesn't wake her nor the rustling of clothes as Fareeha finds something more comfortable to wear nor the gentle brush of her lips against Angela's forehead before she leaves

Closing her bedroom door behind her, Fareeha pauses in the hallway.

_Well, if Satya's not working, where is she?_

Fareeha sets out, checking the rec rooms, the kitchen, the base perimeter, and the warehouse again, just in case. The research and development labs are empty and when she sees Mei there, Mei says she hasn't seen her either.

Surprisingly, Hana's a bit more helpful when Fareeha bumps into her in the hall.

“She was at dinner last night. Everything alright, ’Ree?”

Fareeha narrows her eyes at the Korean's tone. “I think so. Do you know something I don't?”

Hana rocks on her heels and shrugs. “If you're worried about her, you already know as much as I do.”

 _That's a… statement. Hana and Satya haven't necessarily been particularly close. “_ Ah. Well, thanks.” She holds out a fist to be bumped and they go their separate ways.

Until Hana calls out. “Fareeha?”

She turns, eyebrow raised.

“Stupid question, but have you checked with your mom?”

 _No, because this is half her fault and I don't want to. “_ No?”

“Well, they _are_ tea buddies. Maybe you should check where Ana is.”

Her heart drops as Hana shrugs and wanders off. But fortunately, she can avoid her mother’s piercing gaze in a simple way.

**Mummy**

_hey have u seen satya_ **_12:48pm_ **

**_12:49pm_ ** _where haven’t you checked? Check there. she's bound to be in the last place you look_

 _cute_ **_12:49pm_ **

_but she’s never in her room during the day_ **_12:49pm_ **

**_12:50pm_ ** _never? When did I teach you that word?_

 _ha ha :,/_ **_12:50pm_ **

**_12:51pm_ ** _check her room, Fareeha._

 

Turning back toward the domestic sector, Fareeha doesn’t bother replying and simply shoves her phone in to her pocket instead. It buzzes a moment later, but she doesn’t look at the text until she’s almost at Satya’s door.

 **_12:53pm_ ** _mother knows best, after all ;)_

 

Fareeha presses the doorbell on the panel outside Satya’s door and waits. For a minute. Two minutes. Just as she pulls out her phone to tell her mother, Satya slides back the door panel, peeking into the hallway blearily.

 _Oh, Saty…_ Fareeha can’t even think of what to say. Beyond the fact that Satya looks wrecked, she’s clearly just woken up even though it’s early afternoon.

“I’m fine.” Satya clears her throat and repeats herself, “I’m fine. You look concerned.”

“Should I not be?” Fareeha wants to give her some space, some time to compose herself and appear less vulnerable. On the other hand, she wants nothing more to sweep Satya into a hug and squeeze until she feels better. “Did you get sick?”

“No,” Satya drums her fingers on the door frame and sighs. “I messed up my sleep schedule some days ago.”

_Is this because-_

_“_ Before you say anything, this was before Angela’s decision. It happens sometimes.” Satya draws herself into an even smaller ball, fiddling with her hair. Her eyes stay trained on the door frame. “How was your assignment?”

“Good.” Fareeha doesn’t fall for the deflection. “You know, I’d fight your sleep schedule if it’d make you feel better.”

That gets a tiny huff of laughter out of Satya. “How would you manage that?”

“No idea, but I could at least make you some breakfast, if you’re planning on waking up.” Fareeha smiles, relieved to hear something closer to normal in her voice.

“It's well past noon…I...” Satya stares at her for a moment, seemingly speechless. “I would appreciate that.”

“Awesome, I'll be in the kitchen,” Fareeha pauses, not quite willing to leave yet. Satya raises an eyebrow at her hesitation.

_But I still don't know what's wrong._

“Do you want a hug?” It wouldn't be the first time, but it would be a rare time, being for comfort and not some sort of celebration.

Satya nods, opening the door a bit wider. Fareeha wraps her arms around Satya and holds her tight, surprised at how tightly she clings back. When they step back, Satya is notably misty-eyed.

“I'll be ready in a little while,” Satya murmurs, retreating into the comparable darkness of her room.

“Don't rush! Just take your time alright?”

Satya promises that she will and Fareeha leaves, feeling better and worse all in one. At the very least, she can make her some comfort food. Satya is predictable in that way and Fareeha is nothing if not observant.

 _Thank goodness for the internet._ Fareeha thinks, scrolling through a page of recipes.

In the kitchen, she carefully rummages through Satya's pantry cabinet until she finds her semolina— seemingly pre roasted, thankfully— and spice stash. It takes the better part of an hour to make upma from scratch, especially when she began boiling it before she found the whisk to stir it with. The bottom burns a little bit, but by all accounts, is salvageable. There's no chutney- she doesn't have _that_ much time- but there _is_ a very ripe mango in the refrigerator.

_It'll do._

Fareeha plates the upma in the center of a shallow dish, with an additional serving of the mixed vegetables slightly off center. Just as she's scooping mango chunks out of a half of the fruit, Satya enters the kitchen, cradling her mug in both hands.

“What in heavens-?” Satya surveys the kitchen and for the first time, Fareeha does too. There are a dozen different spice containers, the remnants of microwaveable vegetables, a chili top and cutting board, a half-empty pot and a dozen utensils scattered across the countertops.

“I don't know how you ever make upma without making a mess…” Fareeha slips on a pair of mitts and retrieves the plate of upma from the warm oven. Satya stares at the dish as Fareeha places a tiny sprig of parsley on the edge.

“Fareeha…?”

“Hey, you haven't even tried it yet!”

“I...Fareeha...you…” Satya makes a strangled noise, trying to stifle it with one hand. Fareeha sets the plate on the island, worried.

But Satya is _laughing_. She's clearly trying to hold it in but giggles become snorts which become chortles until Fareeha begins laughing nervously as well. Satya has to take a seat at the island to calm herself.

_Either I made a mistake or did something… awesome?_

Fareeha steps back to grab the mango half and uses the knife to slide the chunks onto Satya's plate. When she offers a spoon, Satya accepts it, wiping tears of mirth out of her eyes as she does so.

“Thank you, truly. I'm sorry for laughing. You went through all the trouble to make me something I enjoy and I _laughed_ at you. Heavens, how rude.”

Fareeha cracks a smile. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all.” Satya shakes her head, clearly holding back laughter. “You must have looked _past_ my packets of instant upma to find my semolina is all.”

_There's...instant...upma…_

Fareeha's blush deepens, heat spreading to beyond her cheeks to show her embarrassment. “I...looked up a recipe online. I was only looking for the ingredients.”

“And I know it will taste wonderful. Truly.” She picks up the spoon and pauses. “Was there any more? You should have some too.”

There is indeed a generous helping of upma still in the pot. Fareeha scoops it onto a plate and fixes it the same way she did Satya's. Ignoring the chaos of the kitchen, they sit at the island and eat. She watches anxiously as Satya takes the first bite.

Being that she'd had 45 minutes, an internet recipe, and a handful of substitutions, the look of bliss on Satya's face is surprising. Fareeha beams, waiting for the verbal confirmation.

“Exquisite.” Satya takes another bite. “Thank you, Fareeha.”

“Any time!” Fareeha chirps then digs into her own.

They eat in relative silence, polishing off the meal far too quickly. Satya hums quietly, savoring her food. The warmth in Fareeha's heart has less to do with the cumin and chillis and more with the soothed expression on Satya's face.

“Your attention to detail is, as always, admirable,” Satya says, taking their empty plates and beginning to load the dishwasher. Fareeha gets up to help, but Satya turns a glare so stern on her that she pauses in surprise. “You cooked. _Sit. Down_.”

Fareeha sits. “Okay, jeez, sitting.”

“Heavens,” Satya grumbles, pulling on the dish gloves. “That's quite enough from you. Relax, please.”

It's easier said than done, but she manages, leaning on the counter and spinning her phone around. She nearly drops it when it vibrates.

 **1 unread message from** **_Mummy_ **

_Oh, that's definitely an ‘I told you so’._

She puts her phone down, opting to watch Satya putter about the kitchen.

“Tell me about this nickname, Fareeha.” Satya dries her hands off with a towel and gathers her ingredients. Fareeha follows her to the pantry with the few things she's unable to carry.

“So you _did_ see my messages?”

“Of course,” Satya says into the cabinet. “ I saw them after my shower. I knew I'd see you here, so why respond?”

 _Makes sense._ Handing the last of the containers to Satya, Fareeha clears her throat. “So, I was thinking since Saty's shortened from the end and two syllables, maybe Faree?”

“Like a fairy?” Satya raises an eyebrow, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I suppose you do fly after all.”

“Well, it doesn't really sound exactly like fairy…”

“No, it doesn't,” she agrees, making a few final rearrangements to the cabinet. “But it's nice. It suits you. I'll use it when I can.”

“Again, you don't have to. But if you want to, now you know.”

They step out into the kitchen once more and despite what she said earlier, Satya allows Fareeha to wipe down the counters and clean up alongside her.

“Do you have plans for the rest of the day?”

 _Not unless going back to sleep is a plan. “_ Nope. Do you want to work in the warehouse?” Satya shakes her head quickly. “Okay. What's up?”

“Fareeha-” Satya starts, clearly uncertain, then tries again. “ _Faree_ , I did promise I'd dance for you yesterday but I think the solution I've found is better.”

 _Oh, so soon?_ For the first time, she really looks at what Satya's wearing: a flowing skirt in cool tones, leggings  tight around the ankles and a elbow-sleeved shirt tucked into her waistband. She’s certainly dressed for it.

Comparably underdressed, Fareeha is inexplicably nervous for what the alternative is.

“I can teach you how to dance instead?” Satya dries off the last pot and puts it away. “I think that would be a much more rewarding experience.”

“Sure,” Fareeha says, without really thinking about it. ”Sounds like a challenge. I'm in. Is what I'm wearing okay?”

Satya gives her a quick once over and nods, deeming her sweatpants and tank as appropriate. “Let’s go to the studio.”

“We have a studio?” Fareeha swipes her phone off the island and jogs to keep up with Satya’s brisk pace. “When did we get a studio?”

“There’s always been a studio.” Satya says lightly, heading down the stairs.

“Should we be dancing after eating?”

“I'll keep the spinning to a minimum until your stomach is settled.” Satya's laughter echoes off the walls of the stairwell as they descend to the dorm basement. Down here the lights are dimmer, even as they turn on in response to movement.

The studio is brightly lit though. After taking off her shoes, Satya begins to fiddle with the wall panel, speaking quietly with Athena. Fareeha follows her lead and removes her sandals, then taps out a quick text.

**Ange**

_rly hope this doesn't wake you but if you wake up and need a n y t h i n g and im not answering, its bc im downstairs in the dance studio (did you know we had a dance studio?) and satys trying to teach me how to dance like she does_ **_2:38pm_ **

_so if you need a n y t h i n g or you want a laugh u know where to find us both_ **_2:39pm_ **

 

Satisfied, she slips her phone into her shoe and straightens up. Satya's moved to the center of the floor and is bending over to reach her toes. She makes the stretch look effortless and Fareeha hurries to join her.

“Dancing immediately would be foolish. Stretch as you wish, then we'll do some more focused exercises.”

Fareeha nods and begins the routine she uses in the mornings, breathing in time with the soft music that surrounds them.

Satya is quiet, doing the same. The music is the only thing to be heard. Fareeha knows it's what she prefers but her curiosity gets the better of her. “So is there anything I should know?”

Satya looks over from where she's hugging her torso to her shins. “Not necessarily.”

Disappointed, she tries again. “Is there anything you _want_ me to know? About dancing? Don't get me wrong, now. I'm looking forward to learning how, but I guess I just...wanted to know more.”

Satya side-eyes her curiously.  “There won't be much I can say when we actually start. Talking and dancing don't mix well.”

Fareeha steps into a lunge and stretches one arm across her chest. “Hence why I'm asking now.”

Satya starts slowly, first explaining the type of dance she prefers— kathak.  By the time she's moved onto its origins and significance, Satya leads Fareeha into the warm-up as promised, only instead of verbalizing the instructions, she shows Fareeha in the mirror as she continues talking.

Fareeha follows her lead, asking only a few questions; for the most part, she's content to listen and let her words wash over her. At some point, she'd side-tracked Satya onto the categorical differences between kathak and the other classical Indian forms of dance. She'd feel bad if it weren't for the way she'd lit up at the additional inquiry.

It's a full fifteen minutes of stretching and talking before Satya releases them from the final balance pose. Fareeha sighs, putting both feet back on the floor.

“Now we can truly begin.”

The first steps are easy. Satya pauses the music as she fixes Fareeha's posture and form, sometimes nudging her feet into place with her own.

“Naturally there was a cane involved in my tutelage.” Satya mutters at one point, startling Fareeha out of her concentration as she pushes her foot back into position for the dozenth time. “I prefer gentler reinforcements.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Vishkar often was. But I was too good for the cane.” Satya doesn't sound very happy about that fact.

“Still, you shouldn't have had to fear it.”

“Time’s passed.” Satya taps at Fareeha's shin with her foot and grumbles something under her breath. Then, “You're just like lava! You flow then you harden. Stop it!”

“Wha-?” Fareeha stumbles and realizes she's right; one moment she feels loose and the next, she tenses. “Hey, I'm doing my best here!”

“Your arms are so stiff.” Satya sighs. “Of course. You don't know what to do with your arms yet.”

Fareeha pouts at Satya in the mirror as she instructs to do the steps again- in place, forward, backward, sideways, diagonal, all to the beat of 8. Just when she gets the hang of that, Satya finally tells her what to do with her arms- hold them a chest height, palm clasped with palm together. Unless she's twirling, and that's a whole other issue.

Including a few breaks, it takes about two hours for Fareeha to nail the sequence, twirls included, and the rhythm. Finally adding in the music helps. Satya dances alongside her until Fareeha truly seems to have the hang of it.

They take another water break then Satya scrutinizes her as she resumes her position. To her delight, Satya only nudges her twice to correct her form. Satya stands between Fareeha and the mirror, giving her one last once-over. Suddenly, she pokes her in the stomach and Fareeha shrieks, startling them both.

“You're ticklish?”

“You aren't?” Fareeha hugs herself protectively. “Give a girl some warning, will you?”

“My apologies.” Satya doesn't sound apologetic in the slightest. “It's a quick way for you to drop your stance. Try it again.”

Fareeha does, glowing with pride when Satya hums in approval.

“Now, your job is to dance how I've shown you, not to copy me.” Fareeha freezes and Satya pushes her lightly until she relaxes. “You'll be fine. It's repetitive and simple.”

Fareeha makes a face. Satya rolls her eyes and takes her place to Fareeha's left.

“ _Comparatively_ simple, then. You're doing very well.”

With a word to Athena, Satya starts the music once more. It's a different song, sure, but Fareeha counts the beats like she was taught.

She stays so terribly still as Satya performs a _namaskar_ once more- the one just after their stretching had been mostly for Fareeha's educational benefit. This one has Satya's natural grace in it, mesmerizing as she moves from position to position until she's back on her feet, matching Fareeha's stance.

Perfectly timed from start to finish, the drumbeat begins as soon as Satya's on her feet once more.

 _It's not that hard. Just count and step, count and step._ Fareeha tries to remember to stay loose and breathe.

And Satya?

For a short while, Satya steps with her, but she diverges quickly into a pattern quicker and more complicated. Her feet tap out a rhythm twice as quick on the bamboo floor, a soft staccato that accompanies the music. Satya's skirt lifts gracefully over her leggings as she steps and twirls, weaving effortlessly around Fareeha.

_She looks like an ocean wave._

Impressed, Fareeha nearly trips over herself, then remembers to watch her feet in the mirror. It's difficult to watch Satya dance circles around her at the same time but Fareeha does eventually manage to keep up and observe.  In the mirror, she can see the utter joy on her face. Satya is very clearly somewhere else; Fareeha is hardly a factor. Despite how silly she feels, Fareeha understands the transaction perfectly now.

_She keeps something that makes her so happy so private to the point I'm not allowed to just watch._

It's a very lovely seven minutes and when the music trails off, Fareeha sinks to the floor and lays flat on her back, breathing hard. Unfazed, Satya stares at her for a moment, then pads over to the storage box in the corner.

Fareeha closes her eyes and just tries to breathe evenly. A moment later, something soft nudges her hand. It's a hand towel. She thanks Satya and wipes the perspiration off her face and neck. When she opens her eyes again, Satya's sitting cross-legged at her side, dabbing her face with another cloth. Aside from a light sheen of sweat, she only seems slightly winded.

“Wow, uh..” Fareeha swallows, at a loss. “That was fun.”

“It was?”

Fareeha props herself up on her elbows when she realizes the inquiry was serious. “Yeah, loads! I mean, it was hard but I can understand why it took years for you to perfect it.”

“I am not _perfect,”_ Satya demures _,_ folding her washcloth into a triangle. “You flatter me.”

She doesn't bother trying to argue with her. Instead, she shakes taps her feet together, trying to shake the jelly feeling out of her legs.  “How do your legs not hurt after this?”

Before Satya can answer, Angela’s voice cuts in. “Have I missed the exciting parts?”

Fareeha cranes her neck backward until she can just barely see Angela closing the door behind her. “Ange! You’re awake!”

Satya waves. Angela shuffles nervously, cradling something in her arms. “Well, yes.”

“Shoes,” Fareeha calls out, just as Satya makes a disgruntled noise, presumably regarding the first step Angela took out onto the floor. Thankfully, she doesn't argue with it, only toes off her slip-ons. She crosses the floor in a few quick strides and reveals what she’s holding: a water bottle for each of them.

“Thank you?” Fareeha sits up so she can open it properly. Satya holds the water bottle in her lap like it's a precious relic, brow furrowed.

“I woke up to a text about dancing.” Angela shrugs, standing awkwardly over them. Fareeha doesn’t miss how Satya moves to make something, then stops herself. “I thought that might help.”

“You _woke_ her?” Satya glares at Fareeha in such a way that _'you broke the rule’_ does not have to be said to be heard.

_No way, I sent that text years ago!_

“No,” Angela says, quicker than Fareeha can respond to Satya's borderline murderous glare. “I had an alarm set so I wouldn't oversleep. My batches are ready. I'm just dropping by.”

Placated, Satya chews on this. “I see. I hope you got enough sleep then.”

Fareeha watches as Angela flares her wings in distress. Satya looks downright dejected, realizing the line she'd guilelessly crossed.

And Fareeha?

_I've had enough of this._

“Okay fine. Saty, what's your cooldown strategy?”

Satya blinks. “Typically a low-intensity dance, sometimes freestyle.”

Taking that a cue to flee, Angela moves to excuse herself, but Fareeha tugs at the hem of her pants.

_Ange may be an Amari soon, but she’ll never be immune to the Amari puppy eyes._

“'Reeha—”

“Your nanites won't overcode themselves, will they? Just for one song? I'll even let you pick.”

“I have two left feet, you know this.” Angela flutters, half turned toward the door.

“Saty,” Fareeha whines. “ _Help me_.”

For a moment, Fareeha isn't sure if Satya will go along with the teasing but eventually, she looks up at Angela and smiles. “Physical activity _can_ help the brain prepare for mental stress.”

Angela fluffs her wings. “I _know_ that-”

“Good! Then you have no excuse.” Fareeha presents her forearm and Angela helps her up, flaring her wings again, this time to act as a counterbalance. She offers to do the same for Satya who hesitates before accepting.

It takes everything in Fareeha to keep from rolling her eyes.

 _They tiptoe around like they barely tolerate each other, but that couldn't be further from the truth._ Fareeha sighs. _Here's to hoping I don't make it any worse._

They both turn to look at her- Satya with curiosity, Angela with apprehension.

Fareeha gestures to Angela until she realizes she needs to pick the music. “Oh, well, there is this one song I used to listen to in college.”

While she finds the song, Fareeha takes the moment to shoot a reassuring smile to Satya. Fareeha already knows she can't dance; it's nothing she's ashamed of. With the first jaunty notes of music, she lets her embarrassment melt away. Her bad dancing is contagious, first rubbing off on Angela who starts with a nervous shimmy and then finally to Satya who probably is doing some sort of recognized style of dance but it's much less rhythmic. They bump into each other, dance around and with each other, and pretend to play along with the guitar riffs, shouting and laughing. By the end, they're all giggling, breathless and smiling.

After kissing Fareeha on the cheek and squeezing Satya's hand briefly, Angela finally does finally excuse herself with a grin and fluffy wings. As Satya bids her farewell, there's no trace of sadness in her words. Tapping her foot to the beat of the faded song, Fareeha hums, quietly satisfied with the results of her gamble. It was only four minutes of peace; there's no telling if it will last the rest of the week.

Satya glances at her inquisitively when she laughs softly to herself, but Fareeha just smiles.

_For some of the smartest people I know, they're both kinda dumb._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Fareeha's contact name for Ana (Mummy) is a thorn-in-the-side reminder that Ana didn't tell Fareeha immediately that she faked her death. Ancient Egyptian mythology jokes with your undead mom.  
> \--  
> In an AU where Satya and Fareeha’s senses of humor are switched:  
> S: I really love upma.  
> F: What’s upma?  
> S: Not much, but do I look anything like Ana?  
> \--  
> Before anyone @'s me about Fareeha having figured out anything, let me be perfectly clear: _Fareeha hasn't figured out jack or shit._  
>  No one has.  
> ...  
> Have you?


	7. meraki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _adj. relating to creativity, love or soul_  
>   
>  Satya finally gets a chance to talk to Angela properly.  
> It's purely by chance, or perhaps fate, that the true root of Satya's frustrations reveals itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been so nervous to post a singular chapter of a fic as I have this one.
> 
> My only note is this: Satya's phone remains in CET which is Gibraltar's time zone, even when she is in Belarus which is two hours ahead. Narrative time changes, phone time does not. ...I did a LOT of math to get this chapter right. 
> 
> Enjoy!

When Satya opens her eyes, she doesn’t bother checking the time or turning the white noise off. She doesn’t need to, to know that she’s once again awake far earlier than she needs to be. She pulls her covers over her head and curls into a tighter ball and tries to find what’s left of her dream. No matter how tight she squeezes her eyes shut and tries to empty her mind, the warmth and safety of her dream eludes her.

Frustrated, she throws the blankets off and sits up in one fluid motion. Increasingly, as she’s been trying to fall back asleep, the sound of waves has begun to grate on her patience, so she reaches over and shuts the machine off. She squints blearily at the display; it reads half past two in the morning.

She flops back against her pillows, throwing an arm across her face.

“It’s far too late for valerian. We’re out of chamomile…lavender and laurel perhaps…”

Satya closes her eyes again and lays in bed for several more minutes, hoping that she won’t have to leave its soft warmth. She pulls her covers back up again, half-heartedly curling into a loose ball. Even with her eyes closed, the wall feels too close. She rolls to her other side, but the openness of her room is a gaping chasm. Satya rolls back to the wall, grumbling.

In the end, it’s the unbearable silence that forces her out of bed, into a robe, and out into the hall. The cold tile floor soothes her bare feet as she walks through the dark watchpoint.

Along her way, Athena flashes her sensors toward Satya, but she doesn’t speak until Satya looks up, silently acknowledging the A.I.

“Ms. Vaswani, would you like any of the lights on this this morning?”

Satya shakes her head. “I don’t want to be awake right now.”

Athena dims her sensors, reducing the amount of soft blue light she casts. “Understandable, Ms. Vaswani. I wish you the best of luck in falling asleep once more.”

She whispers her thanks. Then Satya continues to the kitchen by memory alone. It’s a simple task as the path has been worn into her mind like a groove in a paced-over carpet. It’s late. Most of the night owls have gone to bed, but the morning birds have yet to awaken.

_Why do the days begin at midnight rather than three in the morning? The crossover seems to begin now…_

It’s not until she reaches for her phone to research the phenomenon that she realizes that it’s still in her bedroom.

She doesn’t deign the setback worthy of utterance, only sighs. The light will not help her sleep anyway; it’s for the best. She knows where the kettle is, the sink, her mug, the tea itself. The electric kettle hisses softly when she flicks it on.

Her usual mug is in the cabinet where it should be. Nearby are the tins of loose tea and Satya sniffs each one until she recognizes the sweet smell of lavender flowers and laurel leaves. She uses the infuser to gather some of the tea, then drops it into her empty mug.

It’s another few minutes before the water boils, and then a bit more until her tea is finished steeping. By the time she pulls the infuser out of the mug, the tea is still scalding. Rather than stand in the dark kitchen until it cools to a more appropriate temperature, Satya covers it with a napkin and leaves the kitchen.

It's a comfort to actually wander the watchpoint freely at odd times of night.

 _But that was not always the case._ Satya rolls her eyes at the stray thought. _To think Jack suspected me so deeply of espionage when I first arrived._

While her thoughts wander, her feet do too. She ends up at the one place she's been avoiding. Satya hesitates for a moment, but when she asks, Athena cheerfully gives her access to the med bay.

The beds are immaculate and the machinery is powered down. The only light comes from the moon. The blinds on Angela’s office door are drawn shut, but once her eyes adjust, she can still tell there’s little to no light coming from behind them.

 _That’s encouraging._ “Athena, is Angela not in her office?”

“Dr. Ziegler is in her office. However, activity levels dropped so I dimmed her lights to accommodate.”

 _So she’s asleep._ Satya sighs. “May I enter the office then? Since she’s in there?”

“Of course, Ms. Vaswani.”

Out of courtesy, Satya knocks, but when she receives no answer, she turns the handle and steps into the office. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust but when they do, she’s treated to an amusing sight.

Deeply asleep, Angela sits on her swing, clinging to the right arm. Her loose hair is squished between the wide flat surface of the arm and her cheek. A little bit of drool escapes the corner of her open mouth, making a slow trail toward the arm under her chin. Behind her, her wings are relaxed, held close to her back and fluttering every so slightly. As Satya stands in the doorway, Angela lets out a soft snore.

It's the fond irritation she feels that makes Satya realize what she's doing. _Oh dear. I didn't intend to check on her._

Satya pulls her robe tighter around her, focusing on the silken fabric for a moment as she considers her choices.

_I could leave her be, but how could I? That isn’t right._

Satya approaches, clearing her throat. “Angela?” No response, so she tries again.

When Angela still doesn’t wake, she places a hand on her arm and shakes gently. The reaction is immediate.

Angela jolts awake, wings flaring out as she shoves herself away from the side of the swing. Because of the magnetic anchor, the contraption doesn’t swing at all. Her eyes widen as she starts falling out the back of the swing.

Satya springs forward, grabbing Angela’s forearm and pulling backward to keep her balanced. Angela yelps and braces herself against the swing with her other arm. By the time she gets her breath back, Athena has brightened the lights considerably. Satya can see clearly how dark the circles are under Angela’s eyes.

_Clearly, her afternoon nap was not enough._

Angela looks down at her desk, then back up to Satya’s face. She gently tugs her arm out of Satya’s grasp to wipe the trail of drool off her face with her sleeve. A light blush is beginning to show on her cheeks, so Satya kindly focuses on smoothing the fabric of her own robe sleeve to give her a bit of privacy. When she looks up again, Angela looks perplexed.

“Satya? What are you doing—?”

 _This_ she has finally learned how to deal with. Without giving her a chance to say anymore, Satya interjects: “You’re welcome.”

Angela’s face falls. She busies herself with wrestling her hair into an unruly bun. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Thank you for catching me.” She tugs a hairband off her wrist with her teeth and twists it into her hair. “What time is it?”

“Bedtime?”

“ _Satya_ , you’re not supposed to be-” Angela waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Well, you know.”

Satya resists the urge to roll her eyes. “My actions are hardly the problem at the moment. You’re supposed to sleep properly. You’re supposed to take care of yourself. You’re supposed to be reasonable and yet? Here we are.”

“Right. I really am terrible at this.” Angela’s wings bristle even as she takes a deep breath and hops down from the swing.

Crossing her arms, Satya pauses to consider her words. “No, you need better parameters. You shouldn’t have tried to do this all at once or so quickly. That’s all.”

“I suppose I should know better.” Angela droops. “The phrase ‘quitting cold turkey’ comes to mind.”

_I have heard that from Jesse regarding his cigar habit but…_

Upon this realization, Satya bristles at her words, surprised by how much that hurts. Her tone is flat. “I wasn't aware that phrase could be applied to people.”

Wincing, Angela wrings her hands together. “Perhaps it shouldn't be.”

“Then why would you? You didn't have to do this like this. You could have-” Satya breaks off, swallowing her words. They stick in her throat like rose thorns. She stares at the ceiling, trying to keep her eyes from watering.

_This was a mistake. This is too difficult. I can't explain this—_

“Please tell me.” Angela steps closer. “I don't know how to do this, clearly.”

“You could have properly asked us—”

_Or at least me._

“—how it could have worked for all of us.”

“And I didn't.” Angela sighs, hugging herself. “I just thought it would be best...”

“But it wasn’t. You’re not _always_ right.” She takes a deep breath. “I know you meant no harm—”

“But I hurt you anyway.” Angela heaves a sigh. “That's the _last_ thing I wanted to do.”

Satya blinks back tears, startled. _So this_ was _about me?_

“I just wanted to give you a break. You didn't sign up for this.” Angela sniffles, turning around to tidy her desk. “I didn't know how else to give you an out from dealing with me all the time.”

“Angela, have I ever said I _needed_ one?”

Her wings curl stiffly around her as Angela shrinks into herself. “After a while, I just figured…”

“I am sure you thought you were being benevolent but you _figured_ incorrectly.”

Angela huffs, slipping past Satya to flip the switch on the swing. She watches it recede into the ceiling for a moment, then sighs. “Of course. But isn't it unfair? You shouldn’t have to lecture me on how to take care of myself. Or check in on me. I should be the one doing that, not you.”

“You don't...” Satya pauses, trying not to sputter incoherently as she dissects the numerous problems with that logic. “Angela, you cannot simply _forbid_ me from _caring_.”

“No, but my wings aren't your issue-”

“ _Angela_ , your wings are part of you! Stop trying to separate them!”

“No, you don't understand! Everything is different now.” Angela shrugs her lab coat off and hangs it on a hook near the door.  “How can I continue to allow that, knowing all it asks of you?”

“Do _not_ assume which is easier for me.” Satya steps closer to Angela. Her voice cracks a bit, thinking of how difficult the past few days have been. “Do _not_ assume what I do and do not understand. Stop making assumptions about what _I_ want or need from you! Wings or no wings, you are still _Angela._ And if there's one consistent thing about you, it's that you are terrible at interpreting cues from people who love you. That's who you are. I don't expect _that_ to change. What I need you to do is _learn how to ask me_.”

Angela freezes in place, staring at her. Satya swallows nervously, realizing that she's speaking a little louder than what is necessary for the lack of space between them.

“I just… _I_ asked to be included.” Satya steps back nervously, thoughts spinning out of control. “I wish you had asked _me_ before deciding I'd had enough.”

Satya can feel the blush burning her face. She sneaks a look at Angela's wings, but they show surprise, not anger or irritation. After a moment of silence, Angela squeaks, “Okay. You're right.”

“My apologies,” says Satya, fiddling with her sleeves. “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have invaded your personal space so rudely. I shouldn’t be pestering you still.”

“You’re not pestering me.” Her wings rustle audibly. “I’m...sorry. Again.”

Angela’s gaze flicks upward to meet Satya’s eyes and it takes a moment for her to realize what had captured the blonde’s attention beforehand. “Is there something on my lips?”

“I thought- I thought there was a smudge of lipstick.” Angela stammers, wings flaring. “Maybe it was just the lighting… What am I saying? You’re right; I need to go to bed. I can’t keep having these conversations on such little sleep.” She rubs the back of her neck, babbling as she tidies the rest of the office. “I’m sorry-”

Satya wipes her mouth, just in case. “ _Angela-_ ”

She crosses her arms, flaring her wings in distress. “I know, I get it, but I mean it. It doesn’t seem fair for you to spend all this time on me, begging me to do the bare minimum for myself. I just wanted to give you a _break_ , besides trying to moderate my dependence and get research done and everything else.”

“You could have consulted me on the terms of my own break,” Satya chides but finally relents, keeping her tone light as she adds, “But it was perhaps important for me to balance my own interests as well.”

Angela hums in agreement, shooing Satya through the doors, waiting until they’re both out to turn off the lights.

As she locks the med bay behind them, Angela starts in a conversational tone. "That's good at least, right? So, what have you been up to?”

Setting aside the deflection, Satya can hear a note of genuine interest in Angela’s voice. As they walk back to the dorms with only the moonlight to guide them, she recounts her week thus far, skipping the less-than-perfect first day. She describes baking, the few improvements she and Fareeha did, a book she'd finished, wildlife she’d seen on the beach, and teaching Fareeha to dance. She’s just finishing describing the dance they’d been practicing earlier that day when Angela turns to her, expression shy, feathers fluffed, and wings slightly spread.

“I know I'm not the most coordinated, but do you think you could teach me some steps sometime?” And as she says that, her wings flick forward. _Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick._

Satya stops walking. Her breath catches in her throat. Her thoughts come to a screeching halt. All she can feel is her heart, thumping like a well-worn drum and keeping her pulse rabbit-quick in her throat.

_Oh._

“Satya?” Angela stops a few steps ahead from where Satya stands frozen, trying to reason against something she cannot deny.

_I know what that means. I know what that means. I know what that means. I know-_

“Yes. I can teach you. Maybe not tomorrow.” Satya’s words are so automatic that she hardly registers what she’s saying. Nonetheless, Angela beams and Satya hurries to catch up to her.

“Of course not _tomorrow_. It sounds like you’ve been very busy,” Angela says and Satya just nods. Thankfully, they’re close to Fareeha’s door. It’s impossible to concentrate on anything else when her thoughts are so loud.

 _I know what that means, but what does it_ mean _?_

“Angela,” Satya says, forcing herself to speak evenly.  “I’ve forgotten my tea in the kitchen.”

Angela turns to her, expectant. “Oh, do you-”

“No, I’ll just go get it myself. No sense in you being awake any longer.” She mimics the shooing gesture Angela had used earlier. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Angela blinks twice.

“ _In sleep_. I’ll be along shortly in sleep.” Satya can only hope her panic isn’t showing on her face. “Clearly I am...exhausted.”

Angela flicks out a wing to nudge Satya gently. “Get some rest, silly.”

“Likewise,” Satya mumbles.

Then she flees.

* * *

Back in her room with her tea, Satya loads her tablet and considers the blank screen.

_Should I be awake for this? Is this going to keep me up until dawn? That possibility is very high._

She turns the brightness down and drains half of her mug before starting to write what she knows.

By the time she has the screen full of her thin loopy script, her mug is empty and her eyelids are drooping. Curling up with the tablet, Satya considers everything she’s written. Three key questions deserve answers.

_First, what did that mean?_

This is the easiest to answer. Angela’s wings have yet to exhibit any significant redundancies. Even if a movement initially looks the same as another, there are cues in Angela’s posture that distinguish one feeling from another. Satya considers what she knows and tries to understand the act from a purely observational standpoint.

Raised feathers, forward flicks, about a quarter spread from resting position. Alone, any of these things could mean several different things. But considering them together, Satya comes to the same conclusion every time: that was _absolutely_ the set of cues consistent with Angela flirting with Fareeha.

 _So the next step is figuring out why that was directed at_ me _?_

Much to her displeasure, there is not really one ideal answer. As the saying goes, she hears hoofbeats, but it could either be a horse or a zebra. Logically, at a base level, Angela was talking _to_ _Satya_ , about doing something _with_ _Satya_ when it happened. That would mean _Satya_ was the object of flirtation.

On the other hand, there’s an idea that is both more likely and less supported with evidence: perhaps Angela was thinking about dancing with Fareeha. Since Fareeha’s already learned some of what Satya has to offer, this isn’t too far-fetched. Satya glares at that short set of notes. It’s not the most well-put-together theory she’s ever crafted, but still within the realm of possibility.

It might even be easier to understand if Angela was conscious of such a movement, but Satya knows  _those_ cues, too. If it’s involuntary, there’s always a slight delay, as if Angela’s subconsciously trying to suppress the movement before it happens. Never before has she been so frustrated for knowing too much.

_There's only one person who knows for sure that this happened and that's me._

Satya holds the tablet to her chest and sighs. Two outcomes, both with their own merit. The biggest and final question still looms:

 _What am I going to_ do _about it?_

Such a question should be easier to answer than it’s turning out to be, especially once she acknowledges that she cannot predict anyone else’s reactions as well as her own. Satya sets the tablet aside, turning her thoughts over and over as she curls up under her blankets. If Angela meant that for Fareeha, that’s to be expected. Everything continues in its usual manner. Nothing changes.

 _But_ , Satya lets herself wonder, _what if Angela did mean that for me—?_

The warmth that blooms in her chest is familiar and under these circumstances, she can finally put a name to it.

Affection.

 _Oh. Oh that's… is that it?_ _But Fareeha—_

But at thoughts of Fareeha, the feeling only intensifies. It's an uncommon feeling for Satya, but it's powerful.

And it complicates everything Satya's known.

_Is that why this whole week has been so frustrating? To be pushed away when they are both so dear to me and this whole time, I have been...so blind..._

She buries her face in her pillow and grumbles to herself. The idea of acting on such feelings or even simply expressing them brings a claustrophobic constriction to her chest.

Satya raises her head and thinks back over the past couple of weeks. Surely she has been terribly obvious, if not also oblivious, about her feelings? But Angela doesn't seem to know and if Fareeha knew, surely wouldn't she have mentioned it to her?

“Oh no,” she groans, burrowing under the covers completely. “No. No, no, no.”

It’s Satya's secret to keep.

_Despite the possibility that Angela meant that expression for me…what are the odds that Fareeha also...?_

Odds cannot be predicted for anyone but herself. Satya thinks about that instead.

“A 60...no, a 65% chance of things remaining as they were,” she whispers into the darkness under her blankets. “A 25% chance of...having a crush on one of them...A 10% chance for both.”

_Such slim odds. And yet that's where I fall. And by proxy, there is a likely a similarly minuscule chance of reciprocation._

It’s easy enough to dismiss the warmth in her heart as silly, but if Satya allows the comfort of it lull her to sleep, no one needs to know.

She doesn't dream.

She also doesn't get much more sleep. In less than two hours, she's awake again; rather than fight again for more sleep, she just gets ready for the day.

Satya follows her morning routine to a tee all the way up until she means to leave her room, headed for breakfast...with Fareeha and Angela.

Nevermind what Angela did last night, Satya remembers her own realization and slams the door in a panic.

_I am in love with them._

Her heart threatens to burn a hole through her sternum. Her anxiety sets her stomach aflutter. Satya buries her face in her hands.

_I have a childish crush on my engaged two best friends._

Everything seems so different in the light of day. Satya shies away from the door completely.

_I love them more than anything else in the world._

Satya takes a deep breath, shaking her head.

_No. Crushes, romance, love— all bad ideas. Nothing good ever comes from them. They're distractions!_

She pauses leaning against the wall to remind herself of where _that_ idea comes from.

_But...I am no longer beholden to Vishkar or its beliefs._

That's a thought that usually brings her comfort, but for once, the gaping chasm of uncertainty left behind doesn't help.

_Do they deserve this? Me? An interruption?_

It would be easier to pretend as if Vishkar were right about _just_ this one thing. All of her frustration, every bit of it, stems from this. It's such a simple explanation, so obvious and yet...

_How has this escaped their notice?_

Surely someone had noticed before her.

_They deserve the world. Not whatever this is._

Her armchair seems tempting. Rearranging her encyclopedias seems tempting. _Anything else,_ but facing Angela and Fareeha with such a heavy secret in hand, seems tempting.

_But Angela and Fareeha would worry._

Nothing's worse than making them worry. They care so much. Angela would fret then doe-eyed Fareeha would come find her. They'd ask what was wrong. And when has Satya ever been able to lie under pressure?

_Apparently, friendship wasn't enough and now my heart is making poor decisions._

Terrible answer.

Awful answer.

Logically the most accurate answer.

Fareeha would see right through her. It'd be over in an instant. Having a crush on only one of them would obviously be worse and yet this is somehow not much better. She'd lose them both, maybe forever.

 _That_ scares her more than anything.

_But what if they loved me back?_

A dangerous thought. Satya scrambles to put a stop to it before it spirals out of control.

_Nigh impossible._

It's not difficult to imagine what Ana would say: just talk to them _._

_Ana must already know._

Satya prays to whatever deity is listening to her and hopes that Ana will not interfere any more than she already has.

_I need to be somewhere else._

* * *

Winston accepts her calm and rational request for a mission that plays to her strengths. When he admits there's nothing on the docket in an architectural capacity, Satya presents a dossier of her own that she'd created as a backup. It's an older one of hers, created as a wishful thinking project, knowing it may never come to fruition.

Thankfully, Winston approves of the humanitarian outreach goal and the team she suggests. After reaching out to the local government and waking up her teammates, everything moved quite fast from there.

Now she's strapped into the back of the jet, examining the pictures of a small Belarusian school prior to an omnic attack and the rubble that remained after. It was a mid-sized elementary school and had been out of commission for over twenty years, relegated to a series of further away schools and makeshift school buildings in an effort to make sure the children originally serviced by it had a chance for an education. After a while, it was clear that the funds for rebuilding it were not in the government's budget. Elementary students went to school miles and miles away instead; some of them didn't go at all.

The team Satya selected for the mission is optimal. Between herself, Aleksandra, and a team of locally hired excavators, clearing the rubble and foundation and rebuilding with a preloaded blueprint wouldn't take more than a day. Mei would work with science teachers to create equipment for their science classrooms. Satya had suggested Lucio as crowd control and sure enough, he wanted to throw the kids a block party, so he brings his DJ equipment and starts drafting a grant for the music department. And Lena? Lena was supposed to simply be their pilot, but now she's excited to entertain any of the kids that might come out to see what's becoming of their new school.

Winston had also suggested Angela tag along and make it a science team effort, but Satya had insisted that Angela be allowed to continue her work undisturbed. Besides, there was no sense in subjecting her wings to unnecessary scrutiny.

By eight, they were flying out and arriving late in the Belarusian morning. Lucio still seems surprised that Satya requested his presence on a mission of her own making, but much to her relief, he wasn't protesting.

The deputy of education greets them, soothed by Aleksandra's warm Russian welcome. Between her and the translator, Satya is relieved to find they were indeed happy to have them there, even if it was on such short notice. On the ride from the airfield to the school's rubble, they’re told of the history of the region and their commitment to education, even in the face of tragedy.

Considering the sheer amount of children that greet them at the site, Satya is happy that Lucio and Lena are there to entertain them and even Aleksandra as she allows children to hang off her arms. Mei undocks Snowball to play too, but she stays by Satya's side as they tour the rubble, meet the demolition and excavating team, and begin setting up the power sources for the hard light generators to charge. Thankfully, the late summer sun is their ally.

Satya keeps her eyes and her thoughts on her tablet, only coming back to reality when Mei puts a hand on her arm. She's startled to see the building is still destroyed; in her mind's eye, it was already cleared and in the process of being rebuilt.

“Satya, this is a good project. Thank you for suggesting it.” Mei smiles brightly and tilts her head toward the excitable chaos that is Tracer— no, Lena— playing tag with a group of the younger kids.

She nods. “I should make the dance tent that I promised to Lucio-”

“Satya, are you alright?”

Mei asks the question so tenderly that Satya nearly breaks right then and there. It takes a moment to ensure there's no cracking in her voice. She's still glad that so much of her expression is covered by her thin scarf.

“Yes. I just felt that I needed to help somewhere beyond the base.” She nods; it's not exactly a lie. “I hope to do this more often.”

Satya takes the time to set up a slightly elevated covered dance hall, complete with composting toilets. There's another tent with a small fire going where many parents and young children mill about. That's also where the hot drinks and refreshments are located. As the day goes on the crowd swells and ebbs, attracting teenagers, more young children, and community members of all ages. It looks almost like a festival, especially as word spreads and vendors begin to set up. Two bounce houses appear and there's a pen set up for pony riding. It's a powerful response, being that she'd contacted the mayor less than 4 hours before they arrived.

She surveys the hubbub with a sad smile _. It is much simpler to do good where Vishkar has never felt the need to go._

Under her direction and the expertise of the local construction workers, the foundation is cleared of all rubble shortly after noon.

Mei has long since retreated into another tent, away from the noise, to converse with the local teachers and understand what equipment they need to help with the curriculums they're teaching.

The last Satya had seen, Lucio and Lena were being taught some manner of traditional Belarusian dance.

Aleksandra has found some sort of kinship with construction workers; despite her limited Russian, Satya can tell they’re joking and teasing each other. Even without that, simply seeing them slinging around sledgehammers and discarded concrete would give that impression.

With the morning chill dispersed, Satya removes her outer layers and flexes her arms, though she keeps on her light gloves as she grips the handles of the hardlight generators and tows them to the corners of the foundation.

Once she's recalibrated them with the school blueprints and affirmed their location on the diagram, each generator begins to create the building from nothing but light.

This is her area of expertise and she is technically alone with her thoughts, but Satya doesn't allow her mind time for wandering. Instead she circles the structure for malformations, malalignments, and mistakes constantly, either scrutinizing her tablet or the rapidly generating structure. She moves the generators when they reach the limit of their range. She moves them indoors when the outer walls are finished, and upstairs when the ground floor is finished, reveling in the cleanliness of a fresh building and the hum of the busy generators. She checks every classroom, every office, every hallway and common space for proper wiring precursors, wall mounts, window seals, and secure doors. In addition to a master key, she makes two copies of the keys for every lock as she goes: one for the teacher, one for the building administrator.

Around four, the building proper is complete with outer and inner walls, a green roof, windows, and flooring. The building passes every international standard that Satya knows. It's a marvel to behold.

Apparently, she doesn't need to tell anyone else that.

She steps out of front doors and is greeted by a roaring crowd of hundreds of people. It is one of those moments where she is glad for her headset, as even the muted cheers shock her quite a bit.

Lena bounds up to her, body blocking her from the crowd as much as possible.

“We were trying to call you, luv!” Lena shouts to be heard over the din as Aleksandra and Mei make their way over as well. “The kids, well, no, everyone really, got excited and wanted to see what was going on!”

Satya flushes. She'd disabled the connection between her phone and her tablet, as well as silenced her notifications. It was not a combat mission and as such, they weren't on comms; it's not as if no one knew where to find her. She manages a quick apology for the inconvenience.

“The building is structurally sound and aesthetically pleasing, even if the lighting and other electronics are yet to be wired and installed. As long as they keep their hands to themselves, they may have a tour.” Aleksandra gestures at the crowd for silence and Satya repeats herself to be translated. She then clears her throat, summoning what little Russian she knows. “ _Welcome. Please, be careful. Come in.”_

The children, parents and other community members promptly swarm the place, led by some of the teachers and students, now adults, who attended the school in the past. Satya is more than content to hang back and watch them point out where improvements have been made.

More than a few children hug her as they enter the building; despite desiring a little more warning, she allows it, hugging each child back with the same conviction with which she'd resurrected the building.

_How precious they are._

She finds herself towed through the tail end of the procession by a pair of twin girls, no older than six or seven. They take her by each hand and skip alongside her, asking all manner of questions in a mix of Belarusian, Russian, English and hand gestures. Satya responds as best she can, grateful for the distraction.

But all too soon, the electricians arrive and  clear the school so Satya can explain how to remove the hard light stand-ins and use them to wire the building. A furniture company is bringing in desks, chairs, cabinets and chalkboards tomorrow, so Satya finds herself with little to do once she's made suitable furniture for the office and cafeteria.

It's inspiring and surprising how many donations have been made to helping the school get up and running. The rubble has been cleared completely, a marquis sign erected and the road and parking lot are due to be repaved for cars and buses. The cafeteria kitchen has already been stocked and installed with gently used restaurant grade appliances and serving stations from a local company.

It was not meant to be a long mission, but their work is already done; it's not exactly a great idea for them to advertise their presence so much either; Belarus abides by the PETRAS Act, at least at a national level.

It's still too soon for Satya's liking. So when the twin girls and their fathers approach Satya with an offer to host her for the night, she's relieved to find that her teammates have similar offers from other families.

They accept, agreeing to meet back at the deputy’s house for a farewell lunch the next day.

After having dinner and allowing the twins to show her their games and read her their books, Markus herds Natalia and Sofia off to bed while Dmitry shows Satya to the guest room and bath, thanking her once more for her help.

It's not until Dmitry closes the door behind himself that Satya feels the exhaustion from an incredibly long day. She reminds herself to ask Markus for the dinner recipe before departing.

As she opens her phone to make that note, her heart drops.

**6 unread messages from Angela Ziegler**

**7 unread messages from Fareeha Amari**

**1 missed call from Lena Oxton**

**4 unread messages from Lena Oxton**

**2 missed calls from Mei-Ling Zhou**

**1 new voicemail**

**1 missed call from Angela Ziegler**

Just like that, every thought and feeling that she'd been carefully squashing surges back to the forefront of her mind.

Satya studies the order of the notifications carefully. Mei called before Lena did, but neither of them called before the voicemail notification. The voicemail could only be from Angela.

She clears the missed call notifications and opens the voicemail.

_[Call received at 9:34 am CET] {Angela clears her throat twice} Good morning Satya, I just- {she pauses} You missed breakfast, I just wanted to make sure you were alright {deep breath} and apologize for upsetting you last night {frustrated huff} what am I doing… {muffled rustling as the phone is set down} Athena? Is- [call ends]_

Satya groans. “Heavens, Angela. You haven't _upset_ me again.”

She opens her text messages.

**Angela Ziegler**

**_7:18am_ ** _Did you get back to sleep alright?_

 **_7:49am_ ** _I hope you're sleeping in. That's probably the best idea, considering the interrupted sleep cycle last night. Perhaps I should have followed in your footsteps. Anyway, there's a granola/yogurt (separated, of course!) combo in the fridge and a smoothie with your name on it for when you wake up._

 **_9:15am_ ** _If you're available, would you mind coming down to the R &D lab? _

**_9:34am_ ** _Missed call from Angela Ziegler_

 **_9:40am_ ** _I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were on duty today. I didn't realize there was anything on your docket. I hope you got enough sleep._

 **_9:28pm_ ** _Have a good night!_

Satya stares at all of the messages for far too long. There's no good place to start. She taps the back button and reads through Lena's unread messages. They're various warnings about the impending crowd and noise.

**Lena Oxton**

**_1:34pm_ ** _Satya everyone wants to get a look inside will that be okay?_

 **_1:45pm_ ** _A crowds gathering outside!!!!_

 **_1:56pm_ ** _The buildings locked, we can't get in to tell you but there's loads of people excited to thank you out here_

 **_1:57pm_ ** _and i mean LOADS!!!!!!!_

Fareeha's messages are in a similar vein to Angela's.

**Fareeha Amari**

**_7:10am_ ** _breakfast?_

 **_7:22am_ ** _it just occurred to us that we both texted you within the last 15 minutes. sorry!!! and good morning :,) from both of us!_

 **_8:36am_ ** _torb and i think we might be able to cannibalize some of the ac parts from an old unit in the hangar but i wanted to check with you first idk if theyre up to snuff to what we could buy_

 **_8:38am_ ** _we're in the armoury if you wanna pop down_

 **_4:04pm_ ** _lena just sent me pictures of before and after on the school and wow thats incredible color me impressed_

 **_4:07pm_ ** _okay i also feel less bad now that i know you haven't been answering her texts either :,p_

 **_8:47pm_ ** _could u text me back to let me know you're okay? i know ur alive and I know you're busy but idk_

 **_8:48pm_ ** _call it a gut feeling_

Satya wants to hide. She shoves her phone under her pillow and forces herself to shower and dress in her pajamas, smoothing out the wrinkles from being packed so tightly in her travel bag. She closes the guest room door tightly, mentally reviews the floorplan, and then allows herself to pace as she composes a response to Angela first.

**Angela Ziegler**

_you have nothing to apologize for. you didn't mean anything by your experiment, i just needed to express my reaction to it._ **_10:12pm_ **

_i am sorry for being away when you needed me._ **_10:13pm_ **

Angela responds in the middle of her composing a response to Fareeha, but she sends that first.

**Fareeha Amari**

_if we want the ac to withstand the test of time, it would warrant waiting to see what quality of components we can afford before settling for used ones but i am glad for the option._ **_10:15pm_ **

_i am doing alright, thank you for checking._ **_10:15pm_ **

_i apologize for being unresponsive, that was unfair._ **_10:16pm_ **

She flips back to see what Angela has said, ignoring the buzzing of Fareeha's responses.

**Angela Ziegler**

**_10:14pm_ ** _Oh please. I should have known better. I need to do better. You deserve better._

 **_10:15pm_ ** _Ugh, that doesn't even make sense. I might be half asleep._

 _you should sleep then._ **_10:17pm_ **

**_10:19pm_ ** _You can't make me. I'm too busy texting you. And ’Reeha’s too busy texting you to tell me to stop. :P_

Satya can't argue with that. She flips to see Fareeha's numerous texts.

**Fareeha Amari**

**_10:16pm_ ** _we can work out logistics later_

 **_10:17pm_ ** _unfair? did you do it on purpose?_

 **_10:17pm_ ** _saty?_

 **_10:17pm_ ** _satyyyy what do you meaaaan_

 _i was trying to minimize distractions while i was working. i should have warned you._ **_10:20pm_ **

_Omission of certain truths,_ echoes some faceless mentor in her mind _, is still lying._

 **_10:21pm_ ** _and clearly u do great work when ur not distracted. it just seemed unusual. i don't mean to hound u either. just worried_

 _i appreciate your concern truly._ **_10:21pm_ **

**_10:22pm_ ** _can i just call you? i can hear ange grumbling about putting things into words behind me_

Curious, Satya flips to read Angela's most recent message.

**Angela Ziegler**

**_10:21pm_ ** _I just...can't shake the feeling that I'm bothering you._

Satya rolls her eyes and sighs.

 _you never bother me._ **_10:23pm_ **

Then she flips back to Fareeha.

**Fareeha Amari**

_yes, please_. **_10:24pm_ **

Her phone rings almost immediately, vibrating in her hand. Satya freezes, immediately remembering the secret she's keeping. She turns off the light and dives under the covers, hoping the darkness will obscure her regrettably expressive face. When she picks up and accepts the video call, she has to hold in a laugh.

Angela's sleepily draped over Fareeha who looks just as tired. Fareeha holds the phone at arm's length. They're clad in pajamas, snuggled in bed.

“Good morning, Satya.” Fareeha grins, relief painted over her features. Satya does the math. It _is_ half past midnight here after all. Her phone is still registering Gibraltar time.

“Good evening, Faree, Angela.” Satya adjusts her phone so they can see her soft smile. “It's good to hear from you.”

“And from you as well,” Angela mumbles, rustling wings almost drowning her out. “You're really done already?”

“Standard Vishkar hard light generators only operate at half capacity. I fixed that flaw when I was 20.” She shrugs sheepishly. “It suited their needs better to allow the design flaw to persist.”

“So clever,” Fareeha smiles brightly. “And where are you now? Hotel?”

“Actually, some of the children who will be attending the school asked their parents if we could be hosted for the night. Lucio and Lena were hotly contested, as you might imagine.”

“I'm sure you were too, architech Vaswani,” Angela says it with such conviction. Satya raises an eyebrow. “I know what I said. Don't look at me like that. You're just as important.”

Satya decides not to comment on that. “I was temporarily adopted by a pair of twin girls. Their guest room is very comfortable.”

“So you're finishing up tomorrow?” Fareeha asks, oblivious to the borderline murderous look Angela is leveling at the screen. Satya doesn't need praise to know she's doing the right thing with the technology she knows. She ignores it and the flush that's creeping up her cheeks.

“Oh no, the school is structurally sound. My role is done. We're having lunch. With the deputy of education. We should be back tomorrow afternoon."

“Oh! We were planning to have a movie night then. Would you be up for that?”

“What are we watching?” Satya wrinkles her nose. Movies are often hit or miss with the group.

“Ana hasn't said…” Angela grumbles.

“Superheros maybe?”

“Perhaps I'll have enough time to make snacks.” Satya muses, trying and failing to stifle a huge yawn. Angela and Fareeha yawn seconds later, with Angela stretching her wings as well.

Angela wraps her free wing around Fareeha and the phone, allowing the screen to cast light on her feathers, which illuminates their faces even more.

“Well, I can't wait ‘til you get back,” Fareeha says with a grin.

“Yes, do fly safe. I should tell Lena not to stay up too late telling stories. Does she even speak Russian? That silly girl…”

_This is so normal. They don't know. They never have to; we're dear friends and the least I could do is maintain that— what more could I ask for?_

“I've missed you,” Satya blurts, unable to keep every single one of her thoughts under wraps. Of them all, it's perhaps the most harmless. “Thank you for checking on me. I didn't mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay!” Angela insists, then adds softly, “We missed you too.”

“Good night, Saty.”

“And a good night to the both of you.”

As the call ends and Satya draws the covers around herself, her curious mind wanders to the thought of laying in bed without two phones and two thousand miles between them, talking about silly things like movie nights.

It takes an extraordinarily long time for Satya to fall asleep after that.

It is a very lovely thought, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like everyone to know that I have been sitting on this since _May of 2017_.
> 
> I'll talk more next chapter, promise. <3


	8. catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _n. a release of emotional tension_  
>   
>  Movie night brings a series of challenges and opportunities, the likes of which the birds are hardly prepared for.  
> They manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **PLEASE READ THIS IN DESKTOP MODE IF YOU CAN HELP IT. Mobile actually destroys this chapter. ;n;**  
>   
>  *deep breath*  
> *another deep breath*  
> I am...so full of love right now. I can't believe this is happening. Finally. It's Finally Happening.  
> First of all, a very big thank you to Hana, who did the beginning banner for this chapter! A lovely triptych of my favorite (could you tell?) trio to aid in the transition to this one-time narrative shift. You may recognize her art from SFV! :D
> 
> Link to the full thread of the pictures is [here](https://twitter.com/Hana_blogs/status/1076348899273584640)  
> Tumblr link is [here](http://hana-blogs.tumblr.com/post/181313290612/three-part-commission-for-kinaesthetiq-mercy)  
> Also, [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A57026IF)!  
> Thank you for bringing these dorks to life!

 

* * *

  

As soon as they touch down on the Gibraltar tarmac, Satya flees the plane, claiming to need to report to Winston before it becomes too late. What the rest of the team doesn’t realize is that Satya finished her report that morning.

In fact, it was in Winston’s inbox before they even left the Belarusian airport. She had not actually spent the majority of their late lunch working on it nor any part of their flight.

If anyone watches as she deplanes, they will notice that she sneaks _around_ the watchpoint, rather entering the hangar. Once out of casual view, Satya slips her shoes off and climbs the closest ladder. Her photon projector case dangles from her shoulder, slowing her progress, but not stopping her. On the rooftop, she surveys the building, aligning it with her mental map of the facility. In a matter of minutes, she stands on a rooftop across from her bedroom window.

The seabreeze whips through her hair as she focuses her visor until she can see through her window. It’s a small mercy that she keeps her blinds open. Creating a teleporter to a place she cannot see takes much more hard light than she has in reserve. The teleporter pads allow her to make the step from the rooftop where she’s hidden to her bedroom with ease.

Satisfied with her this, Satya removes her visor and headset, shaking her hair out. A wave of her left hand dissipates the teleporters. The adrenaline fades and Satya realizes the lengths she’d gone to to avoid bumping into... anyone.

_Perhaps I’m overreacting._

 

It _had_ been a quiet hour of calibrating her Raptora with new flight guidance software. However as Fareeha finally finished and closed the access panel once more, Hana burst into the armory, yelling:

“Fareeha, this is an _emergency!”_ She hops the railing for the stairs and skids to a rough stop in front of the Raptora’s storage bay. “ _Pick a different movie!_ ”

It takes a moment for Fareeha to track the phone Hana's waving and even longer to read the message from Ana saying that she'd finally decided on a movie that ‘they all could enjoy’.

“But I don't want to pick the movie?” Fareeha frowns at Hana as she attempts to bodily drag Fareeha out of the armoury. Maintenance time is definitely over. “She didn't even say what it is? How can it be that bad?”

“Fareeha, _please,_ your mom's gonna pick some old kids’ movie again-”

She snorts. “Well, they make her feel young-”

“She made us watch _Up_ last time! I still haven't recovered!”

Fareeha laughs, wipes her greasy hands with a rag and allows herself to be herded up the stairs and out. “But _Up_ ’s not really a movie you ever really recover from in the first place...”

“ _Fareeha_. You’re not taking me seriously.”

“Why don't you pick it?” She pulls the younger woman into a noogie, taking advantage of their difference in height. “Afraid of my mother?”

“Ha, as if!” Hana squawks, squirming in the head lock. “But because you called for movie night and Ana _waits_ like some sort of _lion_ to call first dibs on the movie choice. You have veto power, dumbass. We have _rules._ ”

“So you resort to… begging?” Fareeha teases, but Hana's right; Ana almost always calls dibs on movie choice, whether Fareeha suggests it or not.

“Yeah, what about it? Just pick another movie!”

Fareeha thinks about last night's conversation with Satya. “Is action okay?”

Hana finally ducks out, sprinting toward the domestic sector before Fareeha can grab her again. She sticks out her tongue before she disappears around the corner. “Anything but a kid's movie!”

 

_Get out of the lab, Ziegler._

Angela takes a step back from the window, covered in scribbles of bright purple, pink, and green glass markers. To an onlooker, they were simply gibberish. To her, they were that and more, but not a breakthrough. She glares at the words, adding more bitemarks to her pink marker.

_Something is still missing._

Angela lets out a dry bark of laughter at that. After all, that's the issue that started the problem. Her nanites thinking the exact same thing: something's missing.

Yet all the trial nanites, including those with identical coding to her own personal colony, still couldn't figure out how to regenerate a simple fly leg.

And nothing in pink, green, or purple could explain where the missing link was.

She glances at her watch.

 _Get out of the lab. Movie night's in forty._ She sniffs tentatively at her lab coat. _And I smell like rotting meat and burnt metal...wunderbar..._

She wheels the maggot enclosure, the source of the meat smell and her housefly specimens, back into the secure storage room. Then she turns and faces the windows. The long shadows outside speak to how late it truly is. She gathers up tins of inactivated nanites, fly enclosures, and other equipment and seals it all in the storage room. After letting the blinds fall over her indecipherable chicken scratch, Angela hangs up her lab coat and finally leaves.

 

Attempting to calm herself and prepare for movie night, Satya had just barely begun dancing when she’d been reminded of the last time she’d danced. And if it were not already distracting enough thinking of working with Fareeha, the added memory of Angela displaying while on the topic does nothing but add to her frustration.

 _I am not just overreacting; I’m_ hopeless _._ Satya flops onto her bed, groaning. _This is worse than I thought._ Not to mention that the little sleep she'd managed after her video call with Fareeha and Angela had been full of fanciful dreams of flowers and cuddling, leaving her confused and conflicted. One way or another, all of her nervous energy needs to go _somewhere_.

 _I_ cannot _go outside like this._

Satya begins spinning a ribbon from hard light nervously, even though she's long since refined the stim into something more… acceptable.

_Ignorance truly was bliss._

She gets to her feet once more. At this point, the sheer obviousness of her feelings is almost overwhelming.

_I have not always been fond of them in this way. That I know for sure. They're my friends; that's still the truth. It's been the truth for the longest time._

Her thought train continues as stretches the new ribbon from palm to palm, twice.

_When did that truth extend to something more?_

Satya extends one foot, takes a deep breath and spins: right foot, one two, left foot, three four, right foot ,five—

_Why can't I dismiss this?_

The ribbon spins with her, faster and faster, nine, ten, eleven-

_How could I dismiss this?_

She keeps her eyes closed to the blurred sights of her room, fifteen— twenty— twenty-five—

Satya stops spinning and shakily sinks to the floor, crumpling the ribbon in her lap. She lets herself sway as her body regains its balance. Thankfully it's impossible to focus on anything else but the dizziness and the fuzzy tingling feeling all over. It drowns out the remainder of her thoughts— save for one:

_I want to go back to normal._

Satya leans back against her bed and watches the ceiling spin.

 

The gym showers are deserted as Angela completes her wash up routine, careful not to saturate her wings with water. The water wipes off easily with a towel, leaving them the slightest bit damp and smelling fresh.

She fans her wings and shivers; the gym is always a bit cooler than the watchpoint proper, no matter the time of year.

_It may still be August, but flannel pajamas would be nice…_

She makes her way back to the dormitory, entering her own room, rather than Fareeha’s. Her wings flutter absently as she digs through the boxes in her closet, looking for the perfect pair of pajamas. There are a few options, once she gets to her winter clothes. She decides on a pair of purple and black flannel bottoms.

“I suppose I never got around to my winter tops, did I?” Angela regards the unaltered back of the matching top with no small amount of resentment. Instead, she finds a shirt that matches one of the colors on the bottoms and slips into that.

After buttoning the fasteners around her wings, Angela shakes them out until she feels comfortable. As she takes her watch off, she checks the time; she has plenty of time before the proposed movie start time, so she heads downstairs to the entertainment room.

 

Overwatch priorities can be bizarre sometimes, but Winston's reasoning, especially when there are two separate entertainment rooms for less than two dozen agents, is that stress relief is important when you're constantly breaking international law.

_But, it's been over a year and we're still here, so…_

When she pushes the double doors open she's not surprised to find Mei and Aleks already curled up on one of the beat-up love seats. They're engrossed in whatever Aleks is showing on the tablet and don't look up until Fareeha passes into their line of sight to grab the remote.

“Oh sorry!” Mei squeaks and pulls the tablet up to cover her face. “We are early, we know. We just got back and came straight here.”

“No problem.” Fareeha turns on the television and flicks through the apps until Netflix comes up.“ Just picking out a good movie.”

“Ana said we were to watch the rat movie, no?”

Fareeha pauses, genuinely surprised by the disappointment in Aleksandra's voice. “Did she?”

“Ratatouille.” Mei clarifies with a gentle nudge. “There are many rat movies, Aleks.”

“Because they are good animals! Clean. Smart. A sense of humor, too.” Fareeha can't help but raise an eyebrow and Aleks scoffs. “Only fools fear rats. Do I look like a fool?”

“Nope. And, um, yes rats are pretty cool.” Fareeha doesn't know what a rat lover looks like but she'd never guessed the Russian had a soft spot for them. “But maybe another night? There was a request for something… non-animated.”

“Gah, fine.” Aleks waves a hand, huffing. The pair return to their snuggled surveyance of the tablet screen.

_Er, right. Non-animated. Action... Let Aleks pick the movie next time, got it._

 

Satya gets to her feet.

_This will pass, just like the others._

A quick glance at her bedside clock tells her she spent entirely too much time dealing with her emotions. There's scarcely half an hour before movie night and she has yet to start on her movie night snack routine.

_The first step to achieving normal is to act normal._

She scrambles to sort her mission laundry, throws on the most comfortable set of clothes she owns and heads to the kitchen.

_Nothing has to change._

 

Her wings flare upon seeing Fareeha in the rec room. She feels them do it.

It's still not the same as the other night; she's still not sure where that motion came from. But she's been paying very close attention, waiting for it to happen again.

_Though I literally haven't seen Satya since… not in person anyway..._

Angela shuffles and resettles her wings, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach at the gaping hole in her knowledge.

Perhaps it's the rustling but Fareeha turns and notices her standing there.

“Hey Ange, you look comfy.” Fareeha flashes her a lopsided grin and gestures toward the screen. There are a few teammates milling about, criticizing Fareeha's choices. “High-speed thriller or superhero team up?”

Angela picks her way around the scattered chairs, couches, and cushions that clutter the room until she can examine the displayed movie posters in detail. “None of the above? Is this not too close to what we already do?”

“Well, we’ve seen most everything else in this category. Fantasy then?”

Angela sticks her tongue out and shakes her wings. “I think not. Romance?”

 _I suppose it wouldn't be fair for_ us _to choose that genre..._

The thought must show on her face because Fareeha frowns. “Really?”

“Okay, no, not really. Just throwing in a suggestion.”

“More like throwing it _out._  What about a murder mystery?” Angela opens her mouth to argue but Fareeha grins. “We don't solve murders!”

_What a dork._

“You _dork._ Isn't there an adventure category? Let's look there.”

 

The kitchen is blessedly empty when Satya arrives. She wastes no time pulling out the big box of popcorn and putting a bag into every available microwave.

The three microwaves hum, creating an ominous chorus that Satya hums along to while she lines up four serving bowls on the kitchen island. She crosses the kitchen tile to the cabinets and fills her arms with all of the dried snacks she can carry, arranging them behind the color-coded bowls.  
  
Red for spicy. Blue for salty. Green for sweet. Orange for the classic mix.  
  
As the microwave humming gives way to intermittent popping, Satya grabs a ring of measuring cups and separates them, setting one near each bowl. Finally, when everything is lined up, she grabs her phone and opens the email thread of snack preferences; had it been a paper copy, she thinks, it would be well-worn and creased from use.

This is one of the times where absolutely no one complains about her attention to detail and preference for perfection. No one would have thought to optimize movie night, of all things, but there is no harm in it. The clock reads twenty until eight in the evening; she has plenty of time to finish.  
  
As she pours wasabi peas for Genji and hot Cheetos for Jesse into the red bowl, the popping begins to trail off; she makes her way around the kitchen, pressing the stop button for each microwave. She grabs more snacks from the cupboard as she waits for the last pops to die down, deposits them in the dwindling space of the island countertop, and returns to the first microwave. Shaking the bag of popcorn as she removes it from the microwave, she grabs an unpopped bag and unfolds it, then sets the microwave to cook it as well. Soon, the three bags are upturned into a bowl each while the fourth bag begins to pop.  
  
Hot tamales for Jack in the red bowl. Pumpernickel crisps for Angela in the blue bowl. Peanuts in the blue bowl for Jesse, along with mini pretzels for everyone else who likes the blue bowl. She tosses kettle corn seasoning into the green bowl before adding Hana’s Skittles and Mei’s controversial Sour Skittles; above all else, they were sweet. Lena’s chocolate chips and Brigitte's M&M's are nowhere to be found though.

As she realizes they’re in the refrigerator, Satya turns to grab the final bag of popcorn from the microwave, then heads to the leftmost fridge. There, in the back of the middle shelf, are the chocolates she’s seeking. She hums happily at the stark difference in her hands, one hot and steaming, the other cold and damp. Raisins go into the green bowl. Toasted soybeans and pretzels in the orange. Banana chips get poured into the blue.  
  
She turns back to the red bowl and adds sesame sticks and a dash of red pepper flakes. She pours the final bag of popcorn in the orange bowl then adds a dash of garlic salt to the blue bowl. Fareeha gets sunflower seeds in the blue bowl and dried pineapple in the green bowl. Coconut flakes go into the green bowl for Ana, but by popular request, also go into the orange bowl; likewise, Hanzo’s Chex meet the same fate. Satya puts walnuts and dried cherries in the green bowl for herself. There’s a cup of plain almonds for Torbjörn and a hefty pack of pistachios for Reinhardt. A few more things go into the bowls- spices and seasonings mostly.  
  
Finally, Satya takes a step back and surveys the ingredients, double checking the list and making sure she’s used everything at least once. Satisfied, she tosses each bowl well, turning everything into a proper trail mix. Then it's a marathon to put everything back in its proper cabinet. The last thing is to grab the tray to carry it all to the entertainment room. She turns around to find the tray.

It's not there.

 

“Aren't the original movies better?” Lena whines.

“Don't be a snob, Lena,” Jesse shoves her shoulder. “Or are ya gonna tell me the books are better?”

Lena stops and considers this, rolling over on her cushion. “Well, we _did_ read the first one in school—”

“You read a book about children killing each other for _school_?” Mei looks so horrified that Fareeha has to hold in a snort.

“It's just a longer version of _Lord of the Flies_.”

“Mom, those two couldn't be any more different if you tried. And yes, I’ve read both of them.” Fareeha looks up from the couch where she and Angela are sitting. “It was the 50-year anniversary remake, Lena. It _should_ be better than the original. They always take everything wrong with the first one and fix it.”

 

Angela sighs. The argument over their eventual movie choice has gone on way too long.

_It's a movie, one way or the other. It’s just a way to relax and spend time together._

Amazingly everyone’s actually here on time, even Genji who she’d cleared for release just some hours ago. _The watch point is nearly full again. Or as full as it gets these days._

 _But where is Satya?_ Angela sits up, looking around the room but she's nowhere to be found.

“Ange?”

“It's unusual for Satya to be late,” she mutters, snuggling closer to Fareeha with an embarassed huff. _I'm worrying again._

“I'm sure she's just…” Fareeha trails off, eyes widening. “Oh, you know what? She might need help carrying everything.”

Angela blinks. _Satya has a system for that, does she not?_

Fareeha scrambles over the couch and out the door, asking them to wait three more minutes. Before anyone can get any ideas, Angela protectively snatches up the remote.

_They can wait a few minutes._

_  
_ _Why is it not there?_

The tray she uses to carry the bowls is no longer in its place. It’s not in the crack between the third fridge and the countertop.

She takes a deep breath and tries to ignore how yet another anomaly threatens to upset the delicate balance she's desperately trying to maintain.

Uncertain, Satya thinks fast.

_There’s nowhere else it would be, but if I take the time to find a replacement, I will certainly be late. Taking two trips will yield the same result—_

 

Slowing from a brisk jog, Fareeha pokes her head through the kitchen doorway, clinging to the door jamb. “Satya?”  
  
Satya turns, furrowed brow softening upon seeing Fareeha. Her distressed expression fades. “I’ll be a moment with the snack mixes. My tray-”  
  
“Jamison used your tray to wakeboard a few weeks ago and I'm pretty sure it's still by the beach.” Fareeha rolls her eyes. “I’m sure he’ll apologize whenever he comes back, but for now, I’m here to help.”  
  
“Oh,” Satya watches as Fareeha surveys the island which, aside from the snack bowls, is honestly impeccable. “Well, thank you. It’s much better than taking two trips.”

Fareeha smiles, glad to see the tension leave Satya's shoulders and her hands unclench.

 

Fareeha grins brightly as a supernova; in an instant, her smile erases all the anxiety of the missing tray and then some. Heart fluttering, Satya can’t help but smile back, pretending not to notice as she swipes a handful of the sweet mix in the green bowl.  
  
It’s a small price to pay for some help.

Fareeha takes the green and orange bowls; Satya slips her phone into her pocket and takes a stack of napkins and the remaining bowls.

The walk to the entertainment room is short but Satya takes every moment to remind herself: _just act normal._

 

Angela bristles at the loud _bam_ of the sliding door, feeling vindicated when Athena chides Fareeha for shoving it open. Her reaction hides how fluffy her wings get when she sees Fareeha and Satya brandishing bowls of snacks.

Without truly meaning to, she scans Satya as if she were a patient. Her hair's pulled back into a loose braid and her outfit is a simple flowered shirt and the closest thing to sweatpants she's ever seen on the architect. Her hazel eyes scan the room and meet Angela's; she offers a small smile and Angela returns it evenly as her wings flutter.

Eventually, she gives up trying to stop them, standing casually, approaching, and taking a bowl from each of them.

“I stole the remote,” she murmurs to Fareeha who reaches into the pocket of her pajama pants with her now free hand. Then she turns to Satya and explains, “We didn't want to start without you.”

“Much appreciated. What are we watching?”

“The Hunger Games. It's not quite superheroes, unfortunately.”

“Oh yes, that's…” Satya makes a face. “Interesting.”

“I guess you've seen it before. It's the remake?” Uncertain, Angela shifts the blue bowl to the crook of her arm and leads the way toward the center of the room. “It's supposed to be better.”

 

_They are not bad movies, to begin with._

“The later movies demonstrated more faith to the revolutionary nature of the source material…The first was simply…”

_Unsavory._

“Heartbreaking?” She shrugs lightly, unsatisfied with the word.

Angela sets down the bowls, taking a napkin and a handful of the salty mix as the team falls upon the snacks. Satya carefully places the red bowl down and watches Fareeha do the same with the orange.

“We _could_ make it a marathon.” Fareeha shrugs back. “It's still pretty early.” 

Before she can respond to Fareeha, Angela pipes up. “Oh, if we're up for marathoning, what about _Heist Society?”_

 

_Okay, maybe movies about revolution, societal brainwashing, and kids forced into murdering wasn't the greatest choice._

Most responses seem interested. A few are mutinous.

“It's the same thing; teens doing illegal things for noble reasons. It's not as violent or sad!” Angela lifts her voice and flares her wings, _just enough_ to keep from flipping the snacks. _That_ gets everyone’s attention.

 

“Impressive,” Satya murmurs, watching Angela command the room with her wingspan.

Fareeha snickers. It's not until Angela gently flicks her with a wing that Satya realizes she hadn't been quite as quiet with that as she'd thought.

_Heavens._

_Oh, Satya._

Fareeha reaches over and nudges her shoulder as she covers her mouth with one hand, mortified.

“None of you have seen _Heist_ anyways,” Angela says quickly. “You should be grateful I thought of something different.”

“Now just because we ain't heard of it, don't mean it's any good.” Jesse frowns, a handful of mix halfway to his mouth.

“It's good because it's _Swiss,_ Jesse.” Angela pauses. “And because it's _not_ American.”

The room bursts into a predictable uproar at both Jesse and Jack's expense, though neither of them defends their home country or its track record for bad movies. Fareeha breathes a sigh of relief as Satya recovers during the hubbub.

“It's your choice, Fareeha.” Her mother smiles, sipping at her mug.

 

_Fareeha, please. For Satya._

Angela glances Fareeha's way. She nods back.

“Sounds like a better idea to me.”

Angela turns to Satya, triumphant—

And her wings, at that moment— _flick, flick, fli-_

She pins her wings so fast that it hurts as they slam into each other, wrenching her muscles as if she'd just landed too quickly.

 _That'll need a check-up before bed._ _Ouch._

But it's too late. It happened again.

Satya looks _terrified_.

 

Angela's eyes are just as wide as Satya's are, she can feel it. Even if she tried, she can’t pretend that Angela had not just _displayed_ to her again, try as she did to stop herself.

_Again?_

Angela stammers, rubbing the back of her neck. “I got a little excited there. Sorry. It's just a really good series.”

_She truly doesn't know why it happens, does she?_

Satya tries to shut down the part of her brain that's over analyzing the last few seconds.

 _But what else could have caused that except for_ me _?_

 

_Every single time._

Fareeha resists the urge to bury her face in her hands. It's not as if Angela and Satya don't get along, but trying to get them to stop trying so hard is…

Tedious.

_One of these days…_

“Hey there, you two,” she whispers, waving a napkin between the increasingly panicked stare-off. “Did I leave the headlights on?”

Predictably, Satya immediately focuses on the idiom while Angela bristles at the insinuation that she's a deer of some sort.

_Two birds, one stone…_

 

Satya glowers at Fareeha. “I won't even begin to point out how much you relied on _our_ prior knowledge for that to work.”

“But it worked, didn't it?” Fareeha smirks and gestures to the couch where Angela had been sitting before.

_With them?_

Satya takes a deep breath and manages to shoot Fareeha a look that hopefully conveys her displeasure with the turn of phrase. Then she picks her way across the cushions and takes a seat.

 

 _Fareeha, no, don't_ make _her-_

But despite the earlier look on her face, Satya sits _,_ looking over to them in expectant confusion. Fareeha gestures ahead of her and Angela has never been more grateful for the rowdiness of the team and their varying national origins as she was now, stepping carefully around cushions and bodies.

Cradling her napkin of trail mix, she settles against the couch with a couple of cushions between her and the hard carpet. Her wings splay out to either side, brushing against Satya's legs. Her left wing jumps a bit at the contact but Angela raises a hand to reassure her, cursing their jumpiness.

_I'm sorry. For everything. I'm so sorry._

“You're fine where you are, ibis.”

_Ibis._

The name is a balm for her nerves. Satya tucks one leg underneath her and reaches down to scratch idly at Angela's left wing.

_That is our normal, after all._

 

Netflix actually does have the movie series Angela suggested, though it takes some searching. She watches Satya and Angela settle in with amusement while she queues the trilogy for watching.

_There wasn't a fight, was there? They're tiptoeing like it was. Have I missed something?_

The opening credit music quiets everyone almost instantly. After asking Athena to dim the lights, Fareeha carefully makes her way back to the couch and settles in behind Angela, laying across the two seat cushions left by Satya. With one hand in Angela's wing and the other propping up her head so she can see the movie, Fareeha finally feels as if she can rest easy.

 

“Peregrine?”

Angela blinks at the hushed whisper to her right before registering the question.

“Swallow, but only on the back,” she warns Hana who cheerfully maneuvers her right wing into a position she can work with.

 

_Angela’s not doing it on purpose, but she knows it's happening._

_She has to, this time._

_I don't think she knows what it means._

_Thank goodness._

 

“Peregrine?”

Fareeha grumbles as Lena slides over the back of the couch and crouches over Fareeha's extended legs.

Angela responds grumpily, but in a way that means she's only pretending to be. Lena sits right behind Fareeha's knees and scratches softly at the nearest wing.

Lucio joins them on the couch, squeezing Fareeha and Lena closer and joining in on the petting party.

Brigitte has the decency to sit on the floor next to Angela at least, taking care not to squash Satya's legs.

 

Satya sighs, her thoughts wandering as the exposition moseys along.

_It is my fault that we're watching this, isn't it?_

_I don't_ hate _The Hunger Games…_

_I can't deny that I prefer this genre. Clever games and complicated plots with an element of thrill._

The snack bowls pass through and Satya makes herself a cup to scoop up some of the sweet mix.

A quick pair of chopsticks keeps her fingers from getting dirty while she eats. There are plenty of hands in Angela's wings to keep her happy, but there’s no sense in disturbing everyone to wash her hands later.

 

The light of Satya creating something is harder to ignore when her head is this close to her lap. Fareeha looks up, flashing her biggest puppy eyes at the architect.

Satya finally realizes she's being stared at. Fareeha looks from Satya's chopsticks to her own napkin of trail mix.

“ _Please?”_

“ _Just_ for you.”

Which means, predictably, Hana notices immediately as Fareeha accepts the new pair.

“Hey!”

 

 _Oh mein gott. “_ Watch the movie _!”_

Angela rustles her wings irritably, flicking Hana.

“But I want some too!”

 

“No.” Satya huffs, huddling into the couch corner. _I knew I shouldn't have given in._

 _“_ But Fareeha gets some!”

“Girlfriend privileges!” Fareeha snaps back.

Satya chokes on a piece of popcorn.

 

_Shit, that's not what I meant._

Hana's eyes are wide with glee. “Wait, wait-”

“I'd rather not get up to wash my hands,” Fareeha explains evenly, trying to ignore her misstep. “So I can keep my hands clean before putting them back in Ange's feathers.”

 

Satya's heart has stopped and restarted several times since Fareeha said what she surely did not mean.

At least she doesn't seem embarrassed by the notion. If Satya's heart flutters helplessly at the implications of _that_ observation, she _absolutely_ ignores it.

The look on Hana's face is nothing short of devastated. “Okay... but why does _Satya_ have them?”

_Hana, I will encase your MEKA in resin, so help me-_

“ _Because_ they are mine to make.” She clips her words, masking anxiety with fury. “And mine _alone.”_

“But—!”

 

“Okay, that's _it_! Out!” Angela flaps none too gently. “Out of my wings! Off the couch! Get out! All of you!”

The petting crew scatters with a chorus of startled yelps and disgruntled whining as Angela stands, flaring her wings dramatically. “It's movie night, not pet Angela night! Now, _behave_.”

Then she flops back onto the couch, shaking her head in disbelief.

 

Fareeha moved out of the way as soon as Angela started flapping, taking her snacks and chopsticks with her. Satya had done much the same,  sliding over the side of the couch arm. Once the rest of them slunk away, Angela settled grumpily onto the couch once more.

The difference is that Fareeha returns and Satya does not.

_Satya?_

 

Fareeha carefully curls up in the shell Angela creates with her right wing. Her warm presence is a balm to her sensitive under feathers.

The other side of the couch is painfully empty.

“Satya?” Angela whispers.

 

_Am I allowed?_

Satya stands next to the couch, unsure and confused. Her head's still spinning, but not as fast as her heart is beating.

 

_Did the girlfriend comment mess that up?_

Fareeha smiles at Satya in the most reassuring way she knows, an apology and an invitation in one.

 _Why is Hana poking fun anyway?_ Fareeha wrinkles her nose, then covers the sour expression with a forced sneeze. _Satya would be a wonderful girlfriend._

 

_Will there be no shortage of me mucking the pond between us?_

With concentration, Angela shakes her open wing in a clear invitation, trying to pretend that everyone else isn't pretending to watch the movie.

 _I_ will _fix this, verdammt._

 

_Is it normal to accept?_

_Would it be abnormal not to?_

_Do I even have enough time to properly consider that?_

 

Angela breathes a sigh of relief, drowned out by the montage of past heists, as Satya silently climbs back over the couch arm and joins them on the couch.

 

_Oh, thank goodness._

Time seems to resume its usual flow.

 

Her heart slows.

Her thoughts come to a stop.

The couch is just big enough for the three of them.

It's perfect.

_Has it always been this size?_

 

_She’s so stiff._

Angela can't concentrate on the screen at all. For the past ten minutes, Satya has sat cross-legged on the left side of the couch, determinedly pecking at her snacks with her chopsticks. One piece after the other, daintily placing each one in her mouth.

Angela glances at the screen. Soon there will be a car chase, if she remembers correctly. Not as loud as a fight scene, but better than the sneaky scenes happening now.

_What can I even say to fix this?_

 

_Over some chopsticks._

Fareeha stabs a piece of popcorn. _I wasn't talking about Satya and even if I was—_

She shakes her head, irritated. _Damnit, Hana._

 

The tension of the heist isn't helping how flustered Angela's getting trying to compose a proper apology. Minutes slip by but words continue to evade her.

_Satya—_

_I just wanted to make sure—_

_If there was ever any question—_

_I want you to know—_

_I—_

“Satya, I… I would move the world to make you happy. I never meant to hurt you but I did. If you could somehow… if we could just go back to normal and start over... I swear I won't make these decisions on my own again.”

 _“_ I’ve long since forgiven you, but I would like that very much,” Satya says quietly, dissipating her chopsticks and cup with a wave of her hand.

_Ugh, never mind. That was too—_

“You have?” Angela freezes. “You _heard_ that?”

 

_Was she not actually talking to me?_

“Did that even make _sense?”_

Satya blinks, reviewing what she'd heard. “Yes?”

 

“Angelese, she speaks it,” Fareeha mutters. When they both turn to look at her, she shrugs. “It's not a _big_ couch.”

They're also not being terribly quiet to begin with, but Fareeha has the remote. No one's complaining about the volume yet.

 

Satya dusts imaginary debris off her hands.

_Standoffish is not normal._

She takes a deep breath. “May I?”

Angela nods as Satya points to the space between her and Angela. Slowly, in case Angela misunderstood, Satya turns so her back rests against Angela's shoulder and stretches her legs out alongside her wing.

 

Angela smiles as her heart eases, unconstricted for the first time in days.

She pulls Fareeha in closer and rests her head against Satya's ever so carefully. Angela exhales softly. The rest of the movie passes in a blur.

 

_I can...I can accept this for tonight._

 

_Finally back to normal…_

 

_As it should be._

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the end art is by yours truly! Fullsize is here on my [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/359059) and my [tumblr](https://kinaesthetiq.tumblr.com/post/181440334089/ournormalpng-wondering-how-these-three-fit) (rip)!  
> I've had this scene in my head, and in my sketchbook, since February or so? Maybe earlier... point is, it's so near and dear to me that I had to draw it myself!  
>  **Questions? Feel free to comment or ask me on[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/kinaesthetique)!**
> 
> Okay let's see...  
> > The picture is quite a bit later but yes, they fell asleep on each other. <3  
> > Yes, there's a slight Pulp fiction reference. No, I don't want to talk about it.  
> > they're not quite there yet, but we're really close. there's a lot of gay facepalming happening for a lil bit longer  
> >And the biggest thank you of them all goes to BZArcher, because without her sharp eye and curious inquiry, not to mention advice and encouragement, Horizons would not exist at all; and also to Meekahsa, who has put up with me crying and screeching about these oblivious wlws for over a year now.


	9. selcouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _adj. unfamiliar, strange, yet marvelous_  
>  In snapshots, Angela wrestles with the technicalities of her own rules, the intricacies of her research, and above all, the complexity of her feelings.
> 
> Before we move forward, let's take a step back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is narrative deviation 2 of 3 (last chapter being the first). Instead of Satya or Fareeha, we have Angela's thoughts as they've spanned Horizons thus far. 
> 
> As a reminder of what happened on each day, heres a quick recap:  
> > Day 1 (ch 1-3)- angela makes her announcement, satya spirals, fareeha runs after her  
> > Day 2 (ch 4- half of 5) satya and fareeha work on the warehouse, fareeha goes on a mission with lúcio & jesse, satya bakes  
> > Day 3 (ch 5 - 6) satya spars with ana, fareeha returns, chats with angela, wakes satya, dancing happens  
> > Day 4 (ch 7) satya chats with angela, panics, and goes on her own mission  
> > Day 5 (ch 8) satya is mostly in belarus & traveling, movie night

**_Thursday, August 26th, 2077_ **

_Day 1_

 

Angela watches Fareeha get undressed from bed, enjoying the view and savoring the extra minutes that she's horizontal. Unlike Angela, Fareeha starts most of her days with a run and a shower. Not to say she doesn't get her exercise in; Angela ends her days with a quick flight. It's nice to start the morning slow. In a moment, she'll get up too.

“Something on your mind?” Fareeha is as perceptive as ever.

Angela smiles, sitting up and pulling the covers off. “I'll tell you over breakfast.”

_It's not easy to say, so I'll say it just once…_

Fareeha steps into the bathroom as Angela swings her legs over the side of the bed. Her wings protest, tense and cramped from sleep.

She stands and stretches properly now, letting her wings fan out behind her. Getting dressed is a simple affair.

 _If all goes well, I'll be in the lab for the day._ Such activities demand long pants and turtlenecks. They provide much more coverage than her average shirt, even on the back. The velcro takes some doing but it's been a while since she's pulled one of her scapulars out with it.

_Small mercies._

* * *

 

Angela putters about the kitchen, starting the kettle and the coffee maker. She takes her supplements with a glass of orange juice, grateful when the sweetness successfully masks the chalkiness of the various pills and tablets.

_It's better than carrots and cuttlebones._

The latter brings a frown to her face. She can hardly imagine gnawing on a bone like some sort of dog-

The light clearing of someone’s throat breaks her from her thoughts. She blinks in alarm at how full her coffee mug is already and turns to smile at Satya.

 _I’m going to fix this._ Angela thinks happily as she greets her friend. _And you won’t have to worry, I promise._

* * *

 

Her breakfast announcement went as well as she could have hoped, with the “bird fam” finally attending to their own lives and not just hers. Only Angela is focused on Angela. That’s the goal.

So far, Angela has spent three long hours on prep for her trials, barely making a dent in her checklist, when the first twinge of discomfort starts.

It’s so unexpected that she freezes, stack of terrariums in her arms. _What? I just got here._

She ruffles her wings, but if anything, the feeling just spreads, radiating from her spine. _When was the last time-?_

In the kitchen, Satya had given her a few passthroughs and Fareeha had scratched a bit but…

 _Gottverdammt. I didn’t_ ask _them to pet me before they left_.

The _one_ thing she can’t fix herself and she’s already done an awful job at compensating for it. Angela squares her shoulders. This is her own doing. She can hold out for a few more hours.

* * *

 

It’s Thursday.

The day they update Angela’s personal health tracker.

Angela doesn’t know how to update it herself, she realizes, four hours after breakfast. She stares at her own tablet, wrestling with feelings of frustration. What was supposed to be a quick distraction from the growing discomfort in her wings was now an even worse point of contention.

_I could ask Satya._

_No, I can’t._

She looks at Satya’s notes from previous weeks and they are… precise, but in indecipherable shorthand. Angela sighed. Of course they were. If Angela ever needed to know something about her wings’ data, she need only ask and Satya would happily provide any and all details. Why would the notes need to be in anything anyone else would understand?

Angela closes the application and asks Athena to engage Dory protocol.

Another way was better than no way at all.

~~At least she couldn’t disappoint Satya that way.~~

At least she’d have data recorded that way.

* * *

 

She cannot, as it turns out, simply _hold out_ for a few more hours. Within another hour, she’s texted Fareeha three times already with no response. The prickliness has intensified to a degree that she can’t withstand, even if she’s wriggling against the wall every twenty minutes. She knows, logically, that it’s not an issue of simple physical contact.

This is not a logical situation. Her body no longer exists in the realm of _logical._

 _Satya’s busy._ Angela takes a deep breath and closes the conversation thread between her and the architect for the ninth time. Pride wins over desperation. Fareeha will answer eventually.

 _Don’t bother Satya. She’s getting a break_ ~~_from me_ _._ ~~

* * *

 

The prickling, stinging, numb sensation has intensified to the point that Angela _considers_ calling on Ana, the magpie as it were. However, every time she reasons the embarrassment of screwing up less than half a day into her own “challenge” isn’t worth it.

She leans against Fareeha’s door and waits, practically vibrating with discomfort and praying that she comes back soon. The words on her paper are barely readable. Angela’s vision swims and she closes her eyes with a sigh. She tries to ignore the easily accessible bed just beyond the door and how much she’d rather be in it.

She stays like that for a few minutes, mentally naming the bones in her body- all 228 of them- just to distract herself from the pins and needles in her wings. Soft, distant footsteps bring her back to attention. Angela shoves her pen in her mouth and bites it, just as Fareeha rounds the corner.

 _Thank god._ She pushes down her desperation and forces herself to ask for petting as normally as possible as if she’s not seconds away from crying in frustration.

Flying makes it better, but just by a little bit. Sure, she could have _walked_ to the armoury, but where’s the fanfare in that?

* * *

 

That night, dinner is microwaved and filling.

~~It’s also lonely.~~

* * *

 

The speed with which Angela drops her equipment and snatches up her phone is probably uncalled for, but she can’t ignore the intense relief she feels upon hearing the wind chimes of Satya’s text tone.

The silence had been eerie and heavy, but not unsurprising. ~~That’s what they’d agreed on.~~

That’s what Angela had asked for.

**Satya V.**

**9:17 pm** how was your day?

_Oh, there are so many responses to that._

Good so far, but not over. **9:18 pm**

_Way to imply there’s still plenty that can go wrong in less than 3 hours._

How was yours? Productive, I hope? **9:18 pm**

_Not that it had to be!_

Or relaxing, at least? **9:18 pm**

_That’s much better._

Angela texts happily with Satya until she ruins it.

But while we’re worrying about each other, it sounds like you missed dinner as well? **9:27 pm**

She waits one long minute after another until she almost gives in, wings stiff with panic. But it’s okay. Satya knows she’s like this: bad at telling jokes, most of the time.

Because humor is just another delivery method for the truth...right?

Another minute. _Maybe she thinks I was being mean?_

Satya? I’m joking. **9:31pm**

But she can’t fool Satya.

~~She never can.~~

* * *

 

**_Friday, August 27, 2077_ **

_Day 2_

 

Over breakfast, something inside Angela wilts as Satya shuts down her questions about the dilapidated storage facility.

_She didn’t do it for you._

~~_But…maybe... it would have been nice if she did._ ~~

_She made it clear: it was an accident. A coincidence. A fluke._

_Of course, she wouldn’t do it on_ purpose _. Your track record with gifts is awful._

Angela pushes her chair back and all but flies from breakfast.

* * *

 

The thought won’t leave her head, so it has to come out of her mouth and meet an uncertain fate.

“Would I be a poor sport if I asked whether Satya ate lunch?” _Please say yes. Say that I’m bugging her. Say that I need to leave her alone. Say that Satya can take care of herself and I shouldn’t be pestering her at all._

“Why would that be-” Fareeha makes a face. “No?”

_Verdammt, ‘Reeha._

“I mean, to ask her.” Angela meets Fareeha’s eyes. _Tell me to leave her alone. Tell me to leave her alone. I shouldn’t be bother-_

Fareeha blinks, tilting her head owlishly. “Again, no?”

_Gottverdammt!_

“I’m trying not to forget, you know?” Angela says a moment later. A lie.

She has no trouble remembering when Satya is not where she ~~is supposed to be~~ usually is.

* * *

 

“Angela, are you suggesting I am a hooligan of less than perfect pedigree?” Satya’s voice is cool, calm, and cuts across Angela’s easy banter like a knife.

She freezes. _What? You’re not a hooligan at all! Did I say that? Did it sound like that? Oh gott, she thinks I hate her-_

Fareeha steps in, ever the knight in shining armor. Of course. Satya’s just teasing her. Just like last night with the emoticon. Satya teases her sometimes. It doesn’t mean she _hates_ her.

_This is stupid. I’m stupid. Just...stop. Calm down._

Then Fareeha leaves, cackling like the world’s cutest hyena, and it’s just Angela, an anxious cheetah, and the most confident lioness _ever_ , Satya Vaswani.

_Fuck._

* * *

 

Angela twists her ring around her finger. As nervous habits go, it’s not the worst. Besides, considering the conversation that led to Fareeha’s impromptu proposal, it’s probably the best ring-related habit she could have acquired.

_What was I thinking?_

Half of the reason for the whole sojourn was to give Satya a _break._

She’d lasted barely more than a _day_ without bugging her.

_Pathetic._

Angela pulls on her goggles and stretches a plastic cover onto her wings. The comparable dimness of the lab reminds her how harsh the fluorescents are. She asks Athena to turn off one set, then heads to the windows to open the blinds.

As she turns the rod to adjust their angle, a glimmer of blue catches her eye.

_Is that… Satya?_

It is. Dancing on the roof of one of the storage garages, bright blue coveralls shimmering like diamonds in the afternoon sun. Long limbs flowing effortlessly to some unheard music.

Looking ethereal, incredible and most importantly…

_She looks so happy…_

Angela yelps as her wings strain against their lab covering and struggles to get them under control. It’s an agonizing minute of frustrated shouting, awkward spinning, and hopping around before she gives up and takes the cover off. Irritated, she stretches them ever so carefully and refolds them into the cover.

_Stupid things._

Blinds forgotten, she returns to her work.

* * *

 

Sleep evades her.

Sleep was actually her attempt at ignoring her wings, but try as she might, Angela could not find a position or song that helped her sleep. Discomfort simply outweighed exhaustion.

Her wings are intent on torturing her, having started their prickling just after dinnertime.

_They shouldn't be like this, stupid things. There's no reason for this...this agony._

Angela stands in the medbay next to the nanite dialysis machine, contemplating.

 _There’s no guarantee that removing or replacing my nanites will stop it._ She looks to the moon, waxing and unsympathetic. _It might not kill me, but it'll cause unforeseen issues at least._

Angela lays on the nearest cot, pulling her wings in tight so they don’t hang off the edge. In the end, she only lays there for an hour before getting up, changing into her lab clothes and getting back to work.

_At least there's always something to do._

* * *

**_S_** ** _aturday, August 28, 2077_ **

_Day 3_

 

Breakfast is a quiet and unusual affair. Rather than sitting in the kitchen alone and falling asleep at the counter, Angela wanders through the adjacent entertainment room where Hana usually is this time of morning.

_Perhaps I can ask for a 5-minute massage? Just so I can concentrate until Fareeha gets back._

Hana is indeed there, but so is Ana. Their odd conversation derails any thoughts of petting.

“Twenty for eight days? What kind of mischief are you two up to?” Angela blurts, confused at such a bizarre wager. Hana and Ana twist to look over the couch at her. Hana even pauses her game; the menu screen blinks languidly in the background.

“Would you like in, Angela?” Ana smiles.“We’re starting a community pool based on how much it’ll rain in September. It’ll give at least one person a chance to unseat the queen come Halloween.”

Angela tilts her head. _That seems fair; a community pool for costumes. It’s the little things that keep us all sane, after all._

“I’m not much of a meteorologist. I may have to do some research-”

“It’s either now or never. Research isn’t fair!” Hana chirps and Ana nods in agreement.

Angela frowns. “Then I guess I’ll have to decline. Will you be doing another in October?”

“Something similar perhaps.” Ana shrugs. “We’ll do something different, so don’t bother thinking ahead.”

“Yeah, no cheating!” Hana laughs and adds: “And now Fareeha can’t bet because you two tell each other everything!”

Angela scoffs, already wondering if Satya would be game to play if they split the prize three ways. “Well, fiancées’ tend to do that-”

“And you know what? Now Satya can’t play either! No conspiring!” Hana sticks her tongue out at her.

 _Were my thoughts so obvious?_ Angela blushes, wings fluffing in embarrassment. She scowls at Hana, thoughts racing. _Or did I say that out loud?_

“Oh. Oh, I see how it is,” Angela growls ineffectively, still flustered. “If you think dirty tricks will keep _me_ from winning the costume party, you’re terribly incorrect. It takes _skill and resourcefulness._ ”

Angela flounces out of the den without another word. It’s not until she’s halfway back to the lab that realizes she’d forgotten a spoon. Her face is still burning. It’s not even a question as to whether or not she’s going back for one.

She’d sooner eat her yogurt with a blunt scalpel than face _that_ embarrassment again.

* * *

 

As Angela flies away from Fareeha and her oh-so-perceptive words, Angela can’t help but let some tears slip out.

_Am I the only one that’s concerned with how much time and effort Satya has to waste on me?_

The thought persists as she lands outside the dorms, slips into Fareeha’s room, gets into her pajamas, and crawls under the covers. It bounces around her brain as she tries to shut her eyes and go to sleep.

* * *

 

Angela manages to sleep a little longer than four hours before her alarm goes off. She reads Fareeha’s text groggily, unsure if she needs to respond to it or not.

 _Dancing? That sounds fun…_ She squints at the time stamp, then at the current time. _Oh...I suppose...maybe…_

Her wonder and hope is what brings her to the bowels of the watchpoint, standing in front of the door that Athena assured her was the dance studio. The water bottles in her hands make them even clammier.

She finally pushes the door open, heart warming at the sight of Fareeha and Satya lounging on the floor of the dance studio. She smiles, looking around. The room is very _Satya_ with her signature blue everywhere, from the repairs to the room itself to the bits of furniture in the corners.

Her heart hammers as she fumbles and stumbles through every interaction; she doesn't miss Fareeha's perplexed glances. Angela almost wishes she'd slept through her alarm.

_This was a mistake. I'm making them worry. I should have just set the bottles down and left—_

_“_ Okay fine. Saty, what's your cooldown strategy?”

_Run, Ziegler. They're fine without you. Go, before you mess anything else up—_

Fareeha tugs on her hem.

_Fareeha, no-!_

Fareeha turns eyes of molten bronze on her. Angela pauses, then strengthens her resolve to leave them be, leave them unbothered—

But Fareeha plays dirty. Angela can't resist both Fareeha _and_ Satya's warm golden-hazel gaze, alight with mischief. Satya knows it, too. They all do.

Angela can feel her walls crumbling as she helps them both to their feet.

 _Magnetized is the word._ She thinks as she jogs over to Athena’s panel and tap in the name of the song. She could say it, sure, but she can already feel a flustered stammer waiting at the back of her throat. _Even though I'm so much trouble…I can't help but be_ here...

But it's _fun_ to dance with them, she finds, surprised at herself for getting into a rhythm and allowing herself the freedom of a silly, carefree dance session. She even manages to flick her wings to the beat.

It's not until she finally leaves, flushed and pleased, that she realizes Fareeha had, probably intentionally, proven her earlier point.

Satya didn't seem to mind being around Angela after all. Not once did it seem as if she'd resented Angela's brief intrusion.

Angela slips out of the watchpoint's basement exit, spreads her wings, and flies down to the cliffs.

 _Is this all in my head?_ A pair of crag martins flies overhead, twittering gaily. _Did I really ruin this by being so caught up in my own panic?_

Unconcerned by the drop below her, Angela shuffles along the sheer cliff face until she reaches a small cave, barely big enough to sit in, especially with her wings. In a well-practiced maneuver, she wraps them around herself and draws her knees up.

_“Wings or no wings, you’re not a burden on anyone, least of all the three of us.”_

Angela shivers, not just because the wet limestone has begun to sap the heat from her body.

Fareeha’s words bounce around in her head as the sun drops lower in the sky. The horizon glimmers before her. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks drowns out the sound of her own breathing. Angela sighs heavily, checking her watch.

_I should go._

Yet, Angela curls into a tighter ball, clinging to what makes sense: she's a nuisance at worst, and a responsibility at best, to the people around her.

_Though I'm a doctor, a medic, a scientist… I am still the one with wings...and that's..._

Angela watches a crag martin do an inversion, likely to catch a tricky insect. It's a difficult maneuver, not one she would try without a storm coming in or the Valkyrie buoying her.

_It’s impossible to do difficult things without adequate support, like saving the world… or living with bird wings._

Angela's cry of frustration echoes on the cave’s walls.

Hana, Mei, and Lena never tease her like Ana does, so she never has a problem asking them for help. Plus Ana always refuses unless there's no one else available. Fareeha checks in on her a lot, so she hardly ever _has_ to ask. But Satya… shouldn't have to help, of them all.

For the first time, Angela realizes how flimsy her logic is. If Hana, Mei, and Lena can be consulted, then why not Satya?

 _Because they don't spend so much time on me already. They haven't spent two months helping me get used to my wings or hanging out with me or making me things or making me laugh. And I don't spend time_ clinging _to them and giving them extra attention and cooking together and helping them with their projects..._

The near failure of her logic does not, unfortunately, reveal a better explanation for her actions and thoughts up until this point. Angela grumbles, still not satisfied. Her secluded thinking cave has yielded no true answers.

“I'm too old to be thinking like this.” Angela huffs, drawing her wings back and fluttering them until they warm up. “I'll just... talk to her... tomorrow.”

About what exactly, she doesn't yet know. It just seems like the proper thing to do. _Something's_ gone awry.

With only a moment of hesitation, Angela leaps out of the cliff cave— there really is no other practical way to get out of it— and soars.

* * *

_ **Sunday, August 29, 2077** _

_Day 4_

 

 _Well, it is tomorrow,_ Angela thinks, groggily consulting her watch as her body recovers from the surge of adrenaline from nearly falling. She quietly straightens her rumpled clothing. Satya looks half as rumpled, even barefoot in her bathrobe. Her brow is furrowed with worry and disapproval.

For a moment, Angela thinks it might be a blessing that she spent the evening thinking only of her work and not of what to say to Satya. Surely she would have come up with something less than honest.

But, from the moment she opens her mouth, everything Angela says is wrong: every word, every apology, every failed logical answer for why she needed to push them away, redefine her independence, and give Satya a break from dealing with the certified trainwreck that is Angela Ziegler: Up Close and Personal.

“—You’re not always right—”

Angela nearly snorts. _Truer words have never been spoken._

“I know you meant no harm—”

“But I hurt you anyway.” Angela lets the breath she's been holding out with a _whoosh_ . “That's the _last_ thing I wanted to do.”

She tries to explain but her thoughts are spinning.

 _I didn't ask her. I got attached to her and just thought she resented that… I didn't ask the patient how she felt about her condition. I_ never _once asked her._

Angela shrinks into herself. Surely, Satya is furious with her—

But no, she's misty-eyed. Tears gather on her long eyelashes. Angela stares, horrified.

 _This is_ my _fault. I put those tears there. What have I done?_

“Do not assume which is easier for me.” Satya steps closer to Angela and it's all she can do to not flinch. It's not fair to undermine Satya’s pain with her own. Satya is well within her right to yell at her, but somehow the shaky, barely-contained, harsh whisper is worse.

 _She's right._ Angela nods at every sentence, though she's sure Satya doesn't require her acquiescence or approval. _I shouldn't have assumed what she needed. I forced my own insecurities on her when I could have simply—_

“—That you are terrible at interpreting cues from people who love you. That's—”

_People who love me?_

Part of Angela's brain- the panicked, anxious part- keeps listening to Satya speak. The other part is reeling.

_She loves me?_

The other part is screaming and running in circles.

_How's that possible? What are the chances—_

The other part is flying in circles and crashing into a tree.

_She couldn't have possibly meant it like that._

The other part is sliding face first down the trunk of a rough-barked tree, falling flat on its back and staring listlessly at the sky.

_Get a grip, Angela._

It takes a moment to settle herself back into the conversation, especially when she's still staring at Satya wide-eyed. Satya's apologizing and Angela chokes out assurances, thoughts wandering.

The other part of her brain sits up and grins wickedly.

_You can't deny: she's very kissable._

“Is there something on my lips?”

_That is so not the point right now!_

Squeezing her eyes shut, Angela stammers and tries to keep her wings from fluffing. It doesn't work.

The other part of her brain dwindles down to a tiny thought: _Fareeha probably thinks so too…_

The thought sticks like cockleburr to the back of her mind.

_She doesn't mean it like that. Love doesn't mean romantic all the time. Just because we're close does not mean she feels that way. Friends are close like that. We're friends. I'm being stupid._

Yet the thought remains.

* * *

 

“I know I'm not the most coordinated, but do you think you could teach me some steps sometime?” Angela smiles, proud of herself for extending an olive branch, even if it is small. _It's a start._

Angela pauses in the hall, realizing Satya is no longer at her side. She turns.

Frozen in place, Satya looks stricken, terrified. Unable to shake the feeling that she just destroyed their tenuous reconciliation, she pulls her wings in behind her.

_Damned things. What just happened?_

Satya catches up but the lingering terror in her expression doesn't fade. It stays all the way until Satya heads back to the kitchen for her tea.

Angela watches her go, throat constricted.

_I messed it up again._

She droops, wings and all, and steps into the bedroom. Fareeha is sleeping when she shuts the door behind her. She's curled up on top of the sheets, without Teddiursa. A book is close at hand, bookmark tucked away in its pages. The ceiling fan whirs softly, keeping the warm air circulating.

Angela sighs. Fareeha had clearly thought she'd be home tonight.

_I meant to be back sooner._

She changes into pajamas and climbs into bed, covering Fareeha with one wing. She mumbles in her sleep, shifting slightly to accommodate her.

_The more I try to fix things, the more I ruin them._

* * *

 

_Satya’s not allowed to be this close._

And yet she is, almost effortlessly, as close as Fareeha or Ana. And just as important to her.

Surely that was the cause for concern. So she’d pulled the proverbial fire alarm. She should not _need_ Satya around.

 _For the most part, I really don’t. But...I_ want _her around. And that’s unfair to her. So it’s okay when she’s not..._

So later that morning, when Satya doesn’t show up for breakfast for the second time in a row, she surely should not feel as bad as she does.

_But she said…but she doesn’t know how much trouble I can be. Surely she doesn’t understand how….there’s no need for her to find out._

“Are you alright?” Fareeha stops stirring the tub of yogurt to watch Angela pace the kitchen tile. “You seem worried…?”

_How do you put up with me? How do any of you put up with me on a non-professional level? How in the world do I garner your love and admiration? Why?_

“Ange?”

“I’m in my head. I can’t…” Angela huffs, folding her wings tightly. She sinks onto the nearest stool and groans, resisting the idea of hitting her forehead on the counter. “Why isn’t this simple?”

Something cold and wet lands on her nose. Angela jerks her head up, going cross-eyed to glare at the dollop of yogurt that Fareeha's placed there.

“I bet it's simpler than you're making it out to be.” Fareeha smiles, licking the remaining yogurt off her finger. She's as charming and dorky as ever; Angela feels herself swoon a bit.

“Easy for you to say,” She bites her lip to refrain from saying anything that'd get her into trouble. Angela leans over the island and rubs noses with Fareeha before she has a chance to recoil. Fareeha giggles, trying in vain to lick the yogurt off her nose.

“Well, if you're wondering where Satya is, I'm sure she's just running late. I texted her 10 minutes ago.”

Angela drops her phone like a hot potato. It clatters on the countertop. “Oh no, I'd just texted her!”

Fareeha blinks. “Not the end of the world? She finally grabs a napkin and wipes the yogurt off her nose. She reaches across the counter and does the same for Angela. “I'm sure we didn't wake her or anything.” She pauses, frowning. “Well, almost sure.”

Angela makes a face. Fareeha doesn't seem too _worried_ about the implication that Satya might be thrown off-

_Her routine._

This time, Angela does let her head hit the countertop, much to Fareeha's dismay.

 _How could I have been so self-centered to forget just how_ much _I could have hurt Satya?_

* * *

 

Angela waits for a bit of time to pass before she tells Satya about her breakfast.

Then she waits nearly an hour and a half to ask if Satya could come to the lab. Then fifteen minutes to call her and apologize— again.

Having reached Satya's voicemail, Angela jabs her finger at the end call icon. “Athena? Is Satya even on base?”

Athena flashes her sensors, casting blue light across the lab floor. “I'm afraid not, Dr. Ziegler. Ms. Vaswani is leading an assignment that deployed early this morning.”

“Oh.” Angela sits down heavily in her chair. “I see. Thank you. I must have missed that memo.”

Athena whirs softly. Angela busies herself with checking her secure messages. She sits back, realizing there wasn't a memo.

“Lúcio is the assigned medic for the mission.” Athena offers, dimming her lights.

Angela's wings twitch listlessly. “Yes, of course.”

“The injury risk is slim to none, Dr. Ziegler.” Athena sounds heartbreakingly sympathetic. “It's an infrastructure reconstruction mission, not combat.”

Angela buries her face in her arms and breathes deep shuddering breaths until the urge to cry passes.

_Satya is off doing her own thing. Wasn't that what I intended?_

Athena's light has gone dim by the time she picks her head up. Of course, she's still listening; Angela could ask her anything and everything about the mission and she would tell her. But she doesn't because if she needed to know, she would already.

_It's nothing to be read into. So don't._

Angela composes the most encouraging text she can. She hesitates as she places a period after the last line.

_I hope you got enough sleep._

Angela can feel the words on her lips, so familiar.

_Satya and I say that to each other all the time._

She said it yesterday. Two days before that. Last week. Last weekend. Beyond what it means literally—

_I hope you're taking care of yourself._

Angela sends the text message, hoping Satya hears it the same way Angela means it.

_Please take care of yourself. You're so important to—_

* * *

 

Also having heard nothing from Satya, Fareeha had been antsy over lunch. Angela couldn't help but agree but they vowed to keep to the usual occasional texts, rather than bug her incessantly.

Every time Angela had picked up the phone, her cursor blinked helplessly. What else could she say?

Angela finally sends a good night text twelve hours later and tries to ignore the radio silence.

* * *

 

Angela's phone buzzes first.

With their cuddling interrupted, both she and Fareeha perk up, looking toward the too-far-away bedside table.

“It can't be.”

“It's so late in Belarus.”

Angela's phone buzzes again, so she sits up and makes a grab for it. She gulps, reading Satya's messages over and over again. By the time she's managed to send one response, Fareeha's phone has buzzed too and she makes a grab for it.

For the next ten minutes, they lay in bed, giggling occasionally at the silliness of the situation.

Texting makes wording her feelings bit more bearable at least. Still impossible.

Rolling over and tucking herself into Angela's embrace once more, Fareeha peeks over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “I think this would be easier if she were here.”

“She can't have two conversations at the same time in person, 'Reeha.” Angela scoffs. “That's preposterous.”

“No, I mean call her so we can all talk.”

Angela blanches. “What? But what if-”

She stops, remembering Satya’s last text: _You never bother me._

 _If I can allow myself to believe that, if only just for tonight_...

“Very well then.” Angela snuggles closer to Fareeha as she positions her phone just so.

The call goes well.

Angela sleeps easily afterward.

* * *

**_Monday, August 30, 2077_ **

_Day 5_

 

Angela flies with Fareeha the next morning, riding the simple joy of a relationship on the mend. It doesn't last forever, of course, especially when they get to the kitchen and Satya isn't there.

They enjoy it nonetheless, even if their eyes are on the empty stool.

“Movie night,” Fareeha reminds her as they part ways with a kiss. Angela throws herself into her trials with that singular thought in mind: tonight, she can make up with Satya properly.

* * *

 

It's not the beginning of the third _Heist_ movie that wakes her. It's the pins and needles of one of her wings. Angela forgets where she is for a moment, struggling weakly with panic.

“An-gela?”

She freezes at the sound of Satya's sleepy voice. “I’m sor-”

“You _always_ apologize for things that need no apologies,” she mutters, sitting up. The relief is instant and Angela adjusts her wing to a more comfortable position. Satya immediately snuggles up once more. “See? You could have simply said 'kindly adjust’.”

Satya giggles; the phrase is clearly an inside joke that Angela is not privy to. It's all she can do to swallow her laughter until Satya's breathing deepens once more.

 _Gott, she's adorable when she's sleepy._ Angela tucks that moment away for safe-keeping. Before long, she's drifted off once more.

* * *

 

_Zwink! Zwink!_

Angela's dream comes to a screeching halt at the sound of Lena's accelerator and her signature giggle.

_Those sounds have no place in the operating theatre. If Lena has her accelerator, then she has no business being in 1590._

She's greeted with several rotten tomatoes as she pulls her ungloved hands out of William Shakespeare's torso to look around wildly for the cheerful Brit.

Angela wakes up with a shudder as the hair on her forearms stands on end. The rec room is dark, with only the TV's dim, off-black glow to provide light. The source of her scare is the blanket that's still settling gently over Fareeha, Satya, and herself.

Angela turns to look for Lena and finds no one at all. The movie must have long ended. She consults her wrist for a watch that isn't there, then reaches over to gently shake Fareeha awake.

Her fianceé stirs slowly, unfolding her limbs until she can stretch. After placing a kiss on her brow, Angela folds her right wing, then turns to wake Satya.

Only Satya doesn't wake up.

She's breathing, Angela confirms after a brief moment of panic- mostly borne from her lingering dream. She checks the pulse of her wrist and finds it steady.

No amount of whispering, shaking, or moving wakes her. She's deeply asleep.

“We can't leave her here,” Fareeha whispers, after her latest attempt to rouse Satya.

“No, we can't.”

They're silent for a moment.

“Well, Sleeping Beauty may just have to be carried.”

“Fareeha-!”

“What? You just agreed we can't leave her here.” Fareeha tugs on her hair beads and Angela blinks. Even on her silhouetted figure, the motion is as obvious as it is rare.

 _Fareeha's flustered._ Angela pauses, realizing she's long since been blushing. _Ah, that makes two of us._ _Not our typical situation._

“I can carry her,” Fareeha pulls the blanket off Angela's legs and wraps Satya in it. “But what if she wakes up?”

Angela sighs softly as Fareeha lifts Satya up, cradling her in a princess carry. She pulls her other wing in, ignoring the tingling sensation of the feeling returning. As she stands, she addresses Athena,

“Athena, would you mind dimming all the lights from here to Satya's room?”

“Not at all, Dr. Ziegler,” the A.I responds quietly, not even flashing her sensors.

Holding a finger over her phone's flashlight, Angela guides Fareeha out of the rec room. Satya stirs once, mumbling something they don't understand. Nonetheless, they both freeze.

Once in the hallway, it's a three-minute walk to Satya's room. The moon lights their path as they tiptoe through the watchpoint.

Angela pauses only once more and it's to fix Satya's bangs so they don't fall all over her face.

Fareeha grins. “Sleeping Beauty, not Sleeping Bedhead.”

Angela snorts.

Another two minutes pass quietly. She breathes a sigh of relief as they turn the final corner thankful they haven't run into anyone during their odd gesture.

“Where'd the blanket come from?”

Angela shrugs, eyes on Satya's sleeping face as they walk. “It's usually in the rec room.”

“Ange,” Fareeha rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

_Who put it there?_

“If my dreams are to be trusted? Lena.” She admits, flushing anew.

_It's just a blanket, it doesn't mean anything._

Fareeha looks thoughtful but if she's about to say anything, they've arrived at Satya's door.

“Athena, if you would please-”

“I am sorry, Dr. Ziegler, but Ms. Vaswani has not given you access to her quarters when she is not there.” She pauses. “Chief Amari does not have permission either.”

_Then why didn't you say then before we left the rec room! And where will Satya sleep? Both of our mattresses are in Fareeha's room and we can't just leave her in the common area. Would she even be okay if we split the beds and let her have one? Or if we moved one bed back to my room, where would we put her while we moved it? What if she wakes up upset because—_

_“Ange._ Take her hand.”

Angela pulls her wings in, suddenly conscious of the anxious frenzy they'd entered. “What?”

Fareeha nods toward where Satya's hands are crossed over her stomach. “Lift the blanket, take her hand, and press it to the scanner.”

_Oh. Right._

In one of the most delicate surgeries she's ever performed, Angela peels back the blanket and gently extracts Satya's right arm.

She holds it gently in one hand and flattens it against the palm of her other. Her palm is warm and so soft, slightly smaller than her own. Angela guides it carefully to the scanner and presses it against the cool glass.

“Welcome back, Ms. Vaswani.” Athena says, a touch too monotonously. After years of working closely with the A.I., Angela could recognize that anywhere; Athena is holding back laughter.

 _If only it were a bit darker in here,_ she thinks as they creep into Satya's room, _So the abyss could swallow me whole._

Angela pulls back the covers so Fareeha can place Satya beneath them. It's not a problem to navigate back out of her room; they both know it fairly well. Still, they hesitate to leave. Angela shares a glance with Fareeha in the darkness.

“We should leave a note,” Angela says just as Fareeha whispers, “We can't just _leave_.”

They both pat their pockets but they have nothing to write on or with.

Satya stirs.

Angela and Fareeha are back in the hallway quicker than they could hiss, _Go_! They slide the door shut with incredible care.

“Athena?” Fareeha asks, panting. “When Satya wakes up, can you just tell her we brought her back after the movie?”

“Of course, Chief Amari. Would you like me to include the security footage?”

Angela's eyes widen, thinking of every tender gesture since they'd left the rec room. Fareeha's expression mirrors hers.

“Uh, it's not like you can rightfully withhold it. It _does_ include her.” Fareeha's cheeks darken with blush, more visible now that Athena has brightened the hallway to light levels more standard for the time of night. “Maybe only if she asks?”

“Very well, Chief Amari. Good night.”

Angela slips her hand into Fareeha's. They walk the handful of meters back to her room together and crawl under the covers. They're very quiet for a moment.

“I'm not very tired anymore.”

Angela can't help but agree, tracing Fareeha's face in the darkness. Several minutes pass before she gathers the courage to say, “Do you remember a conversation we had a long time ago, a few months after we first started dating?”

She can't explain how she knows she doesn't have to specify. It's a hunch that Fareeha's thoughts are in a similar place. She nods into her hand, trailing a hand up Angela's chest until it rests on her face, thumb on her lips. “I do.”

“When we're more awake and emotionally stable,” Angela pauses so Fareeha can feel her smile at the familiar caveat. “Can we maybe revisit that?”

Her thoughts are spinning with possibilities and realizations and anxieties and amazement at just how _dumb_ she is for someone so smart.

“Of course, _ya amar.”_ Fareeha grins against her hand. “We can definitely do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, SFV is about to reach 10k views and I am flabbergasted and grateful. I definitely did not expect my silly wingfic to ever be this popular. It was just something I wrote for myself, but it's humbling to know it brought other people joy as well. I almost wrote a deleted scene/defunct timeline for it, but reasoned I should probably focus on THH instead. ^^;;
> 
> With this chapter, THH officially surpasses SFV's word count, so I thought it would be appropriate.


	10. numinous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _(adj.) feeling fearful yet awed and inspired_  
>  Fareeha and Angela make sure they're on the same page.  
> Then they prepare to add a new chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the cliffhanger. <3 <3

_Cheep cheep._

_It's the twittering that wakes her. Her clothes stick to her body, damp with sweat. The branch under her cheek bites into her cheekbones, even though it’s smooth and slick. Still clinging to the branch, Fareeha picks her head up and finds herself face to face with Ganymede._

_Well...not quite._

_“You're not Ganymede,” she murmurs, holding out a finger for the bright green bird to land on. It chirps and sings three notes before alighting on the outstretched finger._

_She blinks. It's not a songbird at all. It's very clearly a parrot. A pirate's parrot even, complete with an eyepatch over the right side of its head._

_“Squua-awk! Stupid girl!” It pecks at her forehead, causing her to reel back in alarm. She tries to shake it off her hand but it just hovers and returns to dive bomb her again. “Thick skull!”_

_“What the-? Hey!” Fareeha ducks and flails backward, crashing through the vines and foliage until she realizes there's nothing behind her. The parrot squawks haughtily as she falls backward, screaming._

_“Stupid girl!” It squawks, flying around her as she falls. “Squaaa-awk! Stupid girl!”_

_“Go away!” Fareeha bats at it, realizing she's falling very slowly as the parrot taunts her. The parrot flaps out of reach, tilting its head. “Leave me alone!”_

_Its dark eye glints with malice. It dives toward her and drills at her forehead once more._

_“Thick skull! Squaaa-awk!”_

_It's as if the words accelerate gravity. Fareeha begins falling faster; the parrot simply watches her fall away. She grabs for vines just out of reach, anything to keep her from hitting the ground that's rising up at an alarming rate—_

“ _Liebe, es ist nur ein albtraum._ Fareeha, wake up.”

Fareeha gasps, the wind leaving her lungs even though she's only in bed. She squirms, feeling the sheets beneath her, the comforter tangled around her legs, the morning sun warming her face. She squints at the sudden sunlight, relaxing when Angela shifts her wings to block some of it. Angela holds Fareeha's face in both hands, worried blue eyes searching hers. The comforting weight on her stomach is also Angela, carefully straddling her with her legs squeezing oh-so-gently on either side of Fareeha's body.

Fareeha struggles to breathe evenly as the icy adrenaline slowly leaches from her system. She shuts her eyes, only to feel Angela pressing her forehead against her own.

“You're safe now. I've got you.” She brushes her thumbs across Fareeha's cheeks.

“I know.” She exhales. “I'm awake now. It wasn't that bad, I promise.”

“Are you _sure_?”

Fareeha opens her eyes and reaches up to stroke Angela's cheek. “Yeah, I think I just fell? It's fuzzy.”

“ _Just_ fell?” Angela's wings flick in alarm. “That’s nearly the worst thing-”

“Even worse than being eaten alive by a million tiny beetles?” Fareeha laughs when Angela recoils, disgust flickering across her features. “Or rats?”

She pauses to think about this. “Tiny rats or regular sized rats?”

“Does it matter?” Fareeha grins, creeping her fingers up Angela's sides and pinching gently as blue eyes widen in horror. “Those grabby hands and tiny teeth, gnawing through your bones, inch by inch, bite by bite—”

“Ugh, that's awful!” Angela squeals as Fareeha sits up and begins tickling her in earnest.  She flails as they roll across the bed. “You'll give _me_ nightmares now!”

“Oh no, how are you going to survive?” Fareeha flops down next to Angela, pinning one of her wings to the bed. “It'll be what? 35 hours before you sleep again? You'll forget.”

“You know that's not how nightmares work.”

“Fair enough.”

“ _Pharah_ 'nough.”

“Nope, that's it. Morning's canceled.” Fareeha rolls off of Angela's wing. “Class 1 misdemeanor: mispronunciation of already existing pun.”

“Oh no,” Angela sits up with an expression of concern. “Did I go too _Pharah?”_

 _What have I created?_ Fareeha thinks, unable to stop the fond grin that spreads across her face at the way Angela dissolves into giggles.

“You're all sorts of silly this morning.”

Angela gets to her knees, her shrug morphing into a luxurious stretch. “I guess I _am_ feeling better now that you're awake.”

Fareeha grins up at her, still laying on her back. “Mhm. Are you awake and emotionally stable now?”

Angela fluffs up in a way she only does when they're alone, so obviously flustered by the question. She doesn't try to hide the flare of her wings or the wide spread of her feathers. A deep blush follows as she rubs the back of her neck, casting her gaze to the door.

“Well, I suppose... it's- ah...just that we slept through your alarm...”

“Uh oh...” Fareeha's face falls as she props herself up and shoots a look at the bedside clock.  “How did we even manage that?”

“I didn't get to sleep for a while. And you were... occupied.”

“With my nightmare, yeah.” She reaches out to squeeze Angela's knee gently. “I'm fine, promise.”

“It's nearly seven already,” Angela mutters, scrambling off the bed, nearly tripping over the sheets to get to the closet. “We should really get going. We shouldn’t keep Satya waiting.”

“You're not going to _forget_ about this after breakfast, are you?” Fareeha hops out of bed and stretches.

_Because if I have to watch you pine over Satya for much longer..._

“No,” Angela bristles. “I'm not, I swear.”

“Okay, good. Just checking.” Fareeha drops a quick kiss on her forehead before stepping into the bathroom. “I'll be out in a bit.”

* * *

It's just past seven when Fareeha finishes getting dressed, choosing a pair of light sweats and a simple t-shirt. Angela paces, all the while managing to seem like she’s  _not_ pacing. As soon as Fareeha has tugged her sneakers on, they're out the door. They walk to the kitchen, hand in hand.

When Fareeha and Angela walk in, Mei is just leaving, cradling two huge mugs of tea. She almost spills them as they narrowly avoid bumping into each other.

Then, aside from Satya, the kitchen is as empty as it ever is at the time of morning.

“I’m boiling more water now,” says Satya, tipping her head in the direction that Mei went.

“Sorry, we're late,” Angela offers sheepishly. Satya already has their mugs out. The coffee machines purrs. Fareeha can hear the bubbling of the kettle as well.

“It's no trouble.” Satya shrugs. “It seems like I was the only one who had an uninterrupted sleep, so it makes sense.”

Fareeha glances at Angela. She's keeping her composure at least. Satya fidgets with a few strings of hard light, then stops herself just as quickly. It's a small movement.

“Thank you for making sure I went to bed.” Satya says so quickly that Fareeha has to wonder if she _did_ look at the security footage as Athena had suggested.

_Don't make it weird._

“No problem!” Fareeha smiles, nudging Angela forward by the small of her back. Her wings are pinned, stark stiff, and puffed. “What did you want to make for breakfast?”

Thankfully, Angela relaxes at the conversation change, as does Satya, even as she turns to the cabinet and grabs the assortment of tea leaves.

“Would it be bad if I just wanted cereal?” Angela finally approaches the coffee maker- and thus Satya.

“Something simple _would_ be nice.”

“Your yogurt's still in the fridge unless someone ate it?”

“Oh, thank you.” Satya pulls the fridge door open. “I apologize. I'd forgotten.”

As they chat, Fareeha steps into the pantry to investigate what cereal the three of them have in their cabinets. Satya's has nothing of the sort, so it's just as well she has her parfait. The cabinet that Fareeha shares with Angela has two cereals: one featuring granola and cornflakes and the other is a whole grain cereal. She takes them both out and presents then to Angela, who's ready with two bowls.

It's a quiet breakfast.

With a little nudging from Angela, Satya softly regales them with her adventures in Belarus. There's a light behind her eyes as she speaks between spoonfuls of yogurt, painting a picture of a beautiful, but also functional, building created from scratch.

 _She's so proud of herself._ Fareeha grins, finally dipping a spoon into her cereal as Satya finally trails off with a dreamy sigh. _Oh, gross, I let it get soggy._

“I think I remembered why I don't eat cereal...” When Satya and Angela both peer over at her bowl, Fareeha hides it from sight. “If you look at it, you have to eat it.”

“That’s not how that works,” Satya says, just as Angela gags, “Yuck!”

“Anyways,” Fareeha says, pushing her bowl to the side. “Satya, are you going to finish inventory in the warehouse today?”

“I.. am not.” Satya twirls her spoon absently. “I actually… wanted to work on finding future projects. Perhaps another day I can finish inventory.”

Fareeha blinks. “Oh, cool.”

Angela isn't put off in the slightest. As Satya gets up and begins washing her bowl, she declares, “Oh that’s wonderful! I was hoping to steal ‘Reeha today anyway.”

“Are we just tossing me around now?” Fareeha grumbles. “What if _I_ wanted to do something?"

Satya looks over her shoulder. “ _Did_ you have plans?”

“Did anyone _ask_?'

“Well, Satya just did, but _liebling_ , did you have plans?”

There’s a moment of silence as they both stare at her. Even though she was kidding, Fareeha feels a bit chagrined for whining. “Okay, no, but thanks for asking.”

Satya turns back to the sink, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. Angela wing-hugs Fareeha with a snort. “Any time.”

Satya places her dishes in the dishwasher and bids them a good day. Angela hardly waits for her footsteps to fade before grabbing her empty bowl and Fareeha’s ruined cereal.

Fareeha grabs a granola bar from the pantry, leaning on the door jamb with her eyebrows raised. She peels the wrapper slowly, unable to keep a grin off her face.

“Ready _now_?”

Angela practically throws the dishes in the racks. “Yes, yes. Let's go.”

It's not surprising that they end up in Angela's office. As far as Fareeha is concerned, there are few places that Angela feels safer than this. The fact that she's still anxiously pacing five minutes after they've arrived is somewhat telling.

_At least she’s not hiding in a closet by herself…_

Fareeha takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of Angela’s desk, twisting her torso so she can watch Angela over the back of it.

She hopes Angela will do the same.

She doesn't.

_Clearly this is more light-hearted to me than her._

To her credit, when she does speak, Angela wastes no time in getting to the point.

“Fareeha, before I go any further, can I ask you a question?”

Sensing the gravity in her girlfriend’s voice, Fareeha simply nods. Angela paces back and forth twice more before stopping and facing her. Her wings puff with embarrassment.

“What do my wings do when I’m flirting with you?”

She blinks in surprise; of all the things to hear, that was not the one. Fareeha thinks back to some of the friskier moments they've had since the wings made their appearance.

“They’re fluffy? And you sort of flick them forward a bit.” Fareeha uses her hands to imitate the motion and Angela demonstrates. “Just like that, yeah. Did you... not know about that one?”

The doctor grumbles something inaudible as she crosses her arms and paces, wings flicking and fluffing in such an exaggerated manner that it’s clearly on purpose. It’s the right movement, but agitation, not affection, is the motivator.

“This is not...how this was supposed to work.” Angela continues to pace, even though she stops flapping her wings. “That just complicates everything  _more_. Why can’t I get this right?”

“Ange, people aren't perfect… that includes you.”

“I know…I just...” Angela, for her part, chews her lips and continues to pace- from window to door and back- across the office. “I need… another question answered: What is Satya to you?”

Fareeha is suddenly glad she’s sitting down because _that_ catches her off guard. “I thought we were talking about _you.”_

Angela tilts her head. “Well, yes but… humor me?”

It should be an easy question, but she hesitates a second too long anyway. “A really good friend? Best friend?”

Even with all the modifiers, the word ‘friend’ grates against her own ears. Fareeha can feel it in her heart. It’s not true, but at the same time, it is. It _has_ to be. Fareeha frowns, uncomfortable with how conflicted the question is making her. One glance at Angela reassures her though, because her expression is just as frustrated and confused.

“See? You hesitated! Why do we hesitate? Of course, she’s our friend. We’re friends. We’re really close friends!” As she says this, Angela pauses and flares her wings, almost as if to ground the sentence in conviction. Her wings droop as she falls quiet.

The collective pronoun doesn’t escape Fareeha’s notice, but she ignores it. _Now's not the time to protest that._ “But—?”

Angela huffs, her lips quirking into a tiny smile that fades quickly. She continues to pace, hugging her elbows close to her chest. “I’ve been thinking about this since last night…”

_Well, of course…what with the cuddling… and as for taking Satya back to bed… it would have been weirder to leave her there._

“Okay, maybe sit down?” Fareeha suggests, sighing when Angela shakes her head rapidly. “Well… we’re both really good friends with Lena.” _Saying that isn’t an issue. It sounds right._

“Yes, but when I replace Lena with Satya, it no longer seems...correct.” Angela seems to have read her mind. “Satya’s not like Lena. She’s…”

“Different?”

“Yes.”

“Special?”

“ _Exactly.”_ Her wings flick, flutter and flare erratically before Angela manages to turn toward her, expression sheepish, and speak again, “I say all this to mean... I seem to have a crush on Satya.” She pauses. “But I think she knows.”

 _Finally._ Pleased, Fareeha grins. “Does that not make things easier?”

Angela stares open-mouthed at Fareeha. “Not if she freaked out and _ran away_. No, I don’t think so.”

“Ange, _you_ freak out and run away. You’re basically in the middle of that right now. It’s not always for bad things.” Fareeha only shrugs when Angela glares at her. “Anyway, when was this?”

“A couple of days ago. I just... it was late and I was tired. I knew my wings did _something_ , but I didn’t think anything of it.” She shifts from foot to foot. “Okay, I might have been thinking about it a lot. I thought I did something wrong and upset her… more than I already had... but I guess that wasn’t it at all. And then last night... she looked so _scared..._ ”

“Ange, I think you have a critically flawed understanding of what ‘upset’ looks like on Satya,” Fareeha starts slowly. “You don’t upset her in the way that you think. She _cares_ about you-”

“I care about her too!” Angela finally flops into the chair next to Fareeha, wincing when her wings flail: one wing spills over the side while she practically sits on the other. “Which is why I thought she shouldn’t have to worry about me as much as she does. She didn’t sign up to put up with me. I told her that and still—”

_Except...that's exactly what happened…_

Fareeha turns her chair around and sits in it properly. “Uh-huh. Is that what you think she does? Just puts up with you?”

Angela winces, recognizing the implicit call-out of her self-deprecation. “Fareeha, _liebe,_ we’re _engaged_. That’s our agreement with each other, to take care of each other. Satya and I aren’t dating. She shouldn't be expected to be as occupied with my wellbeing. It just isn’t _fair._ ”

“Even though you literally _always_ do the same for her.” Fareeha reaches out to take Angela’s hand. For a moment, everything is crystal clear. She just barely holds back a snort because for all her _Amari intuition,_ she’s missed this for far longer than necessary. “So your independence strikeout had nothing to do with independence and everything to do with convincing Satya that she didn’t have to care about you?”

Angela sits up defiantly. “Don’t say it like that! It sounds-”

“Stupid? Awful? Hopeless?”

“That’s not the only reason! It is true that I need to know my own limits. I wanted to prove that I’m not… she doesn’t have to… I'm capable of taking care of myself and knowing when to ask for help!”

“Ange, I don’t think there’s a force in this world, besides Satya herself, that could convince her that you’re not important to her.” Fareeha scoots her chair closer and grips her hand tighter, but she can’t quite keep the laughter out of her voice. “Has it occurred to you yet that you tried to fix the wrong problem?”

“What other problem is there?”

“Uh, the fact that you and Satya aren’t dating?”

The silence stretches out for a long moment as Angela processes that suggestion. The wing that’s hanging over the side of the chair flares, feathers puffing out as blush begins to return to Angela’s cheeks in full force.

It doesn’t get much better when Fareeha adds with a shrug, “I mean, that's why we're having this conversation, isn't it?”

“ _Fareeha-”_ Angela covers her face with her free hand, shaking her head. “No, that’s...forget it. Saying it aloud makes it all feel… absurd. There's no way she would consider that _._ ”

“Hey now, it's an obvious solution.” Fareeha shrugs. “It's worth at least asking.”

“We don't- I don’t even know if Satya feels the same way about me!” Angela shoots to her feet, but doesn’t pull her hand away.

Fareeha reaches up and caresses Angela’s cheek; the blonde leans into the touch. For the first time since she’d clasped Angela’s hand, Fareeha lets go, instead snaking her arm around her waist. Angela sinks into her lap gratefully, cuddling close.

Fareeha murmurs into her hair, absently massaging the skin between her wings. “Well, Satya definitely knows everything there is to know about your wings. I doubt it escaped her notice that you were flirting with her. Maybe she feels the same way about you and wasn’t sure how to handle it?”

_That would explain a lot about how Saty's been acting too._

Angela leans back to roll her eyes, but not without getting a _look_ from Fareeha. Rather than press forward with whatever self-deprecating comment she’d been thinking, Angela smiles at her. “Maybe, but Fareeha… what about you? You're… taking this rather well.”

Fareeha blinks. Twice.

“Should I not be? We've talked about this before; this is the sort of relationship we can both handle. And it’s _Satya._ She’s already super important to us. Obviously, she’s one of our best friends and we don’t do much without her. If I were you, I'd be… in love… with her, too...”

As she reviews the past several weeks, and more importantly the past few days, in her mind, Fareeha feels heat flooding her cheeks:

“ _Oh._ ”

Every moment spent trying to impress Satya. Shameless displays of strength and expertise.

Always searching for a way to hear her laugh, one more time. Jokes. Puns. Searching for that soft smile. Savoring their moments of banter.

Check-ins. Reminding her of the space she has with them, always. Tugging her back, just like she does with Angela, when she draws away.

The _nickname_.

Working together. Cooking together. Dancing together.

Just… _being_ together.

“Fareeha?” Angela hums, kissing her cheek. “Talk to me, _liebling._ ”

“I didn't notice.” Fareeha flushes, staring at Angela. “I've been so worried about _you_ and _Satya._ I could see this exploding from the moment you opened your mouth last week. I’ve been trying _so hard_ to keep you both from doing something stupid.”

“Thank you for that, by the way.” Angela tucks Fareeha's braids behind her ears as she says this. “But it sounds like you weren't paying attention to how _you_ were feeling.”

“I wasn't.” Fareeha laughs softly, lifting her head. “How stupid is that?”

“Not stupid at all. You care about us. I appreciate it and, not to speak for Satya, but I think she does too.”

“Wow.” Fareeha rests her forehead against Angela's. “I...wow…”

“I'm relieved, honestly,” Angela fiddles with the collar of Fareeha’s top. “I was starting to think I'd been reading you wrong last night.”

“Even so, you could still have dated her.”

“I know but… I don’t think I would enjoy that as much.” Angela mutters, burying her face in Fareeha’s shoulder. “Plus you keep talking like there’s any proof that she even likes us at all.”

Fareeha grins at the inclusive pronoun this time, indulging in the giddy feeling that's making her heart beat too fast. “Not everyone has wings that broadcast their emotions, Ange.”

“I’ve been _flirting_ with her and she hasn’t said anything!”

 _Okay, point. "_ Honestly? I think I've flirting a bit too." Fareeha considers this. “But you weren’t doing it on purpose, were you? I bet she could tell.”

The outrage on Angela’s face is nothing short of hilarious. “You can’t _tell_.”

 _“_ Maybe _I_ can’t.”

“Even _I_ can’t tell. How could anyone else?”

Fareeha bites back a smile.

“ _Oh mein Gott, ist denn nichts heilig?_ ” Angela grumbles in increasingly frustrated German as Fareeha shakes with quiet laughter.

“It _is_ sacred because no one’s mentioned it to you.”

“I suppose.” Angela huffs, blowing her bangs out of her face. She arranges herself until they’re better fitted into the seat. It’s not exactly built for cuddling, but it’s still comforting nonetheless. Fareeha allows the silence to stretch on, lost in her own thoughts.

 _Satya almost_ has  _to know. I can't think of any way she wouldn't. So what does that mean for us?_

“Fareeha...” Angela starts with just a hint of alarm in her voice. “You know this isn’t like-”

_Oh, believe me—_

“I know.” She croons, nuzzling into Angela’s hair.

“No, it’s not like…” She pauses and rather than cut her off again, Fareeha just hums and waits for her to continue. “We’re fine. We’re perfectly fine together. I love you. We’re engaged. That’s never going to change.”

“Well, I hope it changes when we get _married—”_

Angela groans as loudly as physically possible.

“Couldn’t resist.” Fareeha snickers. “Seriously though, I didn't doubt that.”

She huffs, somehow managing to curl up closer to Fareeha. “So confident…”

“Because it's true!” Fareeha feels her stiffen at the exclamation, but at least she has her attention. “It’s not like we're missing anything; we just have extra room.”

“But it’s not like a void,” she presses and Fareeha can hear the anxiety threaded through her words. Her wings are pinned and tense against the arm that Fareeha has around her. It’s a rare moment when Fareeha remembers just how strong they are. She squeezes reassuringly around her waist.

“It's not a void for me either,” Fareeha confirms. “It’s kind of like our bed. We can both stretch out and be comfortable on it, but we could easily make room for another person; we wouldn’t be _losing_ anything. I understand, _ya amar._ I promise.”

“Okay.” Angela uncurls slightly and places a soft kiss on her lips. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

They cuddle for a moment. Angela relaxes her wings after a while and rubs slow circles on Fareeha’s chest. Finally, Fareeha clears her throat. “We have to talk to her.”

“I know.” Angela buries her face in Fareeha’s collar bone again.

“Our relationship only works when we _talk_ , Ange. This is no different.”

“I _know,”_ she groans. “But what if she says no? What if we’re reading her wrong? What if she’s completely not interested?”

 _That’s a risk we have to take._ Fareeha doesn’t voice her own anxieties though, only smiles gamely at her fiancée. “Well, there’s only one way to find out, right?”

* * *

There’s actually about fifty-seven ways to find out and Fareeha and Angela have thrown out every single one of them.

Fareeha would not consider herself unflappable, but the amount of anxiety Angela’s giving off is uncomfortably contagious. 

After they’d discussed their relationship and everything this revelation entailed, they'd talked longer than was strictly necessary about how lovely Satya was. It was as they’d talked that Fareeha realized the fondness she held in her heart for Satya was certainly beyond the platonic kind.

“Why are we so dumb?” Angela had whispered half an hour ago, resting her forehead on Fareeha’s.

Fareeha didn’t have an answer for that then, or now for that matter.

Now, she was asking that question for an entirely different, but not unrelated issue.

_We're overthinking this._

On the mirrors that cover one office wall, their lists of _Do’s_ and _Do Not’s_ and _Absolutely Do Not’s_ is written in bright purple, green and orange glass markers. Fareeha has long since stopped reading them over every time they vet another idea.

“Ange, I love you…”

Angela frowns down at her, sensing the caveat. “But?”

“This is too much,” Fareeha mutters as she lay spread-eagle on the cold tile as Angela paces the room. The little floor vacuum bumps her leg and she lifts it, allowing it to pass under her. “We should just talk to her.”

“And what if I say something dumb?”

_That's what you keep saying._

“You’re not going to.” She bites back a huff, but it's not easy. “She’s not a random stranger. She knows you.”

“Or what if-?”

“And, no, I am _not_ doing all the talking. What kind of example does that set?” Fareeha sits up, extending grabby hands until Angela takes them. Rather than ask her to help her up, Fareeha gently tugs her until she’s sitting on the floor. Her wings splay out to either side of her, but still flap nervously. “I really don’t think we should script this.”

“But-”

“We have our checklist; why don’t we stick to that? What do we _need_ to tell her?”

“I always put my foot in my mouth when it comes to her.”

“So what don't you want to say?”

“I don't want to scare her away. I don't want to make it seem like this is some flippant infatuation.”

“So…?”

“I guess I should apologize again and explain myself properly.” Angela sighs. “That I didn't know how to handle the fact she means so much to me.”

Fareeha bounces her legs. “And I think I want to tell her how much she means to me and how much these last few days have meant to me.”

“Lucky _you_ got to spend time with her.”

“Whose fault was that?”

Angela rolls her eyes. “Fair. And if she accepts my apology-”

“Again.”

“Again. I'd like to say... to express... all the little things I appreciate about her.”

“And _then_ we can ask her if it's a mutual feeling. And if she says yes, ask if she's interested in being our—”

“Pardon me, Dr. Ziegler and Chief Amari,” Athena demures, flashing gentle lights in their direction. “But Ms. Vaswani is approaching the med bay. I believe she is looking for both of you.”

_Oh. Too soon._

“It is in my nature to be omniscient to some extent." Athena adds serenely. "Although I was not listening with the intent to share, I thought it may be best to warn you.”

After a moment of them both staring speechless at Athena's camera bubble on the ceiling, Fareeha manages a strangled thank you to the A.I.

Angela scrambles to her feet. “Well, there's no time like the present.”

 _That's a switch. “_ Uh, Ange?”

“What? You're right. We spent so much time thinking over it. _I_ spent way too much time overthinking it.” She squirms, extending a hand and flaring her wings with confidence. “If you're ready, so am I.”

 _I can almost see her_ physically _beating her anxiety back with a stick._

Fareeha takes Angela's offered hand and stands up, brushing her shorts off with the other hand. She takes a deep breath, trying to release all of her jitters.

“I'm ready.” She grins and gives Angela's hand one last squeeze. “Shall we?”

As Fareeha peeks out the office door, she locks eyes with Satya as she's about to knock.

“Good afternoon, Faree?”

“Hi,” Fareeha grins, pulling Angela out of the office. “Sorry, it's a mess in there.”

“Oh.” Satya begins to flush. “I am so sorry. I should have texted you.”

“It wasn't anything like that!” Angela squeaks, mortified. She's already halfway to bright red.

“Oh. That's... that's good then?”

_Where's the nearest wall? I want to hit it. With my head._

“Anyways, what's up?” Fareeha lets go of Angela's hand to approach one of the patient beds, disabling the magnetic gravity lock so she can angle it toward the physician's side of the room. Angela follows suit, pulling over a stool and Satya hops onto the bed opposite of Fareeha.

Satya holds out her tablet for them to see. “I was wondering if you would be interested in being on the roster for a hypothetical mission in the United States?”

Fareeha peers at the blueprints. “Is that the Miami Omnium?”

Angela frowns. “Isn't that the one that collapsed under suspicious circumstances?”

“Many omnics regard it as a place of mourning for that reason, yes.” Satya swipes through some models. “I've been consulting with contacts there who would like to see it treated as such. There are many who do not wish the omnium to be restored but would prefer it to be a place where humans and omnics can mourn in a shared understanding of tragedy.”

“That's very poetically put.” Angela examines the model of the transparent dome and zooms in to examine the transparent flooring and museumlike interior. “Why us?”

“Primarily for your consistent empathy for omnics. Secondly for air support.”

_Once upon a time, we sat here in the med bay and looked at a model of Angela's wings together._

“Understandable. I wouldn't mind. It's a shame we may never get the funding to pull it off.”

_Did it change then? Everything could change right now. How did we end up here again?_

“Fareeha?”

“Sorry, I got distracted by the model.” She reaches out and spins it absently. “It's a great idea. I'd be honored to help.”

“Excellent, I'll add you to the roster.” Satya slides off the bed, taking the tablet with her. She's halfway to the door with a few long strides. “If it ever comes to fruition, I'll let you know—”

“Saty, wait!” Fareeha nearly falls off the bed and stumbles forward. Satya turns around, stylus in hand, expectant. Fareeha straightens up and clears her throat. “Can we talk to you?”

“Of course?” She tucks her stylus behind her ear and hugs her tablet to her chest. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing!” Angela says, sounding exactly like _something_ is.

“We just… Ange and I were talking about the last few days.”

Satya tilts her head. “We'd already talked about it. On two occasions at least. I understand why Angela stepped away—”

“But you don't. Not really. And not because you weren't listening or anything.” Angela swallows and Fareeha holds her breath. “But because I didn't really _know_ until last night.”

Fareeha shifts from foot to foot, prepared to inch over to her fiancée if she seems in need of comfort. However, Angela seems confident, certainly the more confident of the two of them.

“And above everything else, I think you deserve to know what I know now, no matter what else happens.” Angela's voice wavers. “Satya, I pushed you away because you care about me and very few people are allowed to do that. But it made me feel worse and I didn't understand why at first.

“And I care for everyone, that's my job, yes, but what I said last night, I meant: I'd move the world to make _you_ happy. And that's not a declaration I make lightly. I can count on my fingers all of the people who've heard me say that. Two of them are in this room.

“This last week… I _missed_ you. It hurt. I couldn't concentrate. I felt awful. Nothing felt right. I told myself that it was the best solution; we both know it wasn't. And then learning that I hurt you caused me pain I couldn't describe, especially when I understood _why_ I did it.” Angela flicks her wings and trails off.

 _How do I follow_ that _up-?_

“And I wanted to make sure you enjoyed these past few days. It turned into me just spending more time with you which… we had a lot of fun, I think. I've _loved_ the last week with you.” Fareeha winces at the L-word a split second too late. “But it's been killing me to watch the both of you be so miserable trying to avoid each other. I can’t bear the thought of you two not getting along. I couldn't figure out why it bugged me so much.”

 _She knows._ Fareeha watches Satya's increasingly wide-eyed expression, then steps closer to Angela.

“You say this to mean what?” Her voice is hushed and flat. It's the first time Satya's spoken since they started baring their souls.

“I like you,” Angela whispers, her voice frighteningly small and vulnerable. “I didn't realize it at the time, but I pushed you away because I was scared of how much you mean to me. I didn't want you to feel burdened by that.”

Satya opens her mouth and closes it, eyebrows furrowed.

“And I also like you and had no idea, but it's more to do with how silly I am.” Fareeha shrugs, stroking very gently in Angela's nearest wing. “I just didn't notice.”

Satya's expression is  _very_ hard to read.

“Basically, we realized we like you more than as friends. So we were wondering, after all of this hassle,” Fareeha coughs, rubbing the back of her neck. “If maybe you felt the same way?”

Satya shuts her eyes. Both her tablet and her stylus disappear in a shower of hard light crystals that dissipate into thin air.

“You. Are both.” Satya breathes deeply, hugging the space her tablet left behind. “You are both interested. In me.”

“Yes,” Angela squeaks. Fareeha doesn't dare to check if she has her face in her hands.

“Romantically?” Satya still has her eyes closed.

“That's correct.” Fareeha wants to do something to comfort her but her words stick in her throat.

“Both of you.” Satya makes a low noise in her throat. “Are romantically interested in me. Despite the odds being so low for such an occurrence. _Both_ of you are.”

 _Maybe we should have asked her to sit down._ Fareeha takes a half-step forward. “Satya?”

Satya hums, opening her eyes but not quite looking at them. “But _why_?”

Fareeha's heart shatters into a million pieces. She forces herself not to hesitate with her response, but that doesn't stop her from reeling backward in shock. “Because you're amazing? You're sweet and thoughtful and passionate about literally _everything._ Your sense of humor is incredible and you have this way of talking that makes my heart melt. At this point it would be weird without you in my life; you just _fit_ —”

“And you're _always_ so incredible!” Angela cuts in, having recovered from her own shock. “Your laugh could grow flowers from asphalt. I mean it's lovely. And I love hearing you talk too! You're always wondering about something new. I love how we can go back and forth for _hours…_ You're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, not just physically though. It's just... I've always thought… I am so lucky to know Satya.”

 _And we would be the luckiest people in the world to date you._ Fareeha thinks to herself, almost straining with the effort to not comfort Satya in some way. She’s still frozen, somehow looking even more shocked than before her question.

“Satya, if you…” Angela flutters nervously, glancing at Fareeha. “If you needed some time to process, we'll be in my office. Nothing will change on our end, we promise.”

Fareeha slips a hand into Angela's and squeezes.

“Yes, I—” Satya nods quickly, a small jerky movement that nearly releases her bangs from behind her ears. “A moment. Yes, I need. A moment. Several moments. I will return. After.”

Then she very carefully turns around and leaves the med bay. The door swings shut behind her and they're left in silence.

Fareeha can't help the little whine that escapes her throat.

“Ssh, it's okay.” Angela hugs her tightly.

“Ugh,” Fareeha groans to the ceiling. “Maybe we weren't ready for that.”

“Actually,” Angela adds her wings to the hug and Fareeha sinks into the embrace gratefully. “I don't know how much better that could have gone. A bit more confession than I planned, but I’m glad because I was honest. I think… I think she just needs time.”

“You sound… awfully sure.” Fareeha buries her face in Angela’s hair and breathes deeply.

“Aside from having accidentally confined you to my office for the next few hours, I am. Call it a hunch.” Angela flashes a grin at Fareeha that makes her heart flutter. “You know what? It's what I would have needed. Maybe you have a type.”

 _Dazzling and clever overthinkers?_  Fareeha snorts. _I guess I do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!  
> It's been a year to the day, give or take about 20 minutes, since I first posted Horizons. I just had to honor that by posting a chapter. It's not really the one I wanted but that chapter, the next chapter, is already 5.5k so it'll be polished and out sooner than you'd imagine. <3
> 
> I'll be honest; I don't have much energy to write an a/n at the moment. Hope you don't mind the shorty.  
> Just trust me when I say I am THRILLED about this chapter. :D


	11. ethereal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _adj.) extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world_  
>     
> Satya processes everything she knows and everything she's learned. Then she makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Hopefully the wait wasn't too long. It took me a while to finish this chapter to satisfaction.  
> A note: throughout my writing vishkar is always the source of a lot of suffering/bad toxic shit. please assume that anything said from any vishkorparation is stuff that i despise.  
> please also remember, per musings from the birds in various chapters, namely THH 4, Satya arrived at the watchpoint in December 2076. It is now August 31, 2077. She has a lifetime of internalized ableism, abuse, and self hatred that she is unlearning and healing from. it's only been 8 months. the hard uncaring exterior has been smoothed away and she's relearned to how to be kind to others again but being kind to herself is different and harder to police.  
> It took all my strength to give Satya happy stims that I don't have. She doesn't happy flap. This pains me, but I had to draw the line somewhere.

_What is she trying to say?_

“I like you.” Angela whispers as Satya's heart stops, restarts, and begins beating twice as fast. “I didn't realize it at the time, but I pushed you away because I was scared of how much you mean to me. I didn't want you to feel burdened by that.”

Satya opens her mouth and closes it, biting back a squeal. _What is appropriate? What do I do?_

“And I also like you and had no idea, but it's more to do with how silly I am.” Fareeha shrugs casually, but her flush betrays her. “I just didn't notice.”

_That's not possible. That is not possible. This is not possible—_

“Basically, we realized we like you more than as friends. So we were wondering, after all of this hassle,” Fareeha coughs, rubbing the back of her neck. “If maybe you felt the same way?”

 _Heavens, do I ever but what if—_ Satya shuts her eyes. It's not a conscious thought to dissipate her tablet and her stylus but she feels the jolt as she does.

“You. Are both.” Satya breathes deeply, hugging herself. She resists the urge to rock and spin. “You are both interested. In me.”

_Do not start this. Stay calm. Stay still._

“Yes,” Angela squeaks.

“Romantically?” Satya nearly chokes on the word. _Maybe they didn't mean-_

“That's correct.” Fareeha's voice is higher than usual.

_Did I say something to give myself away? What did I do last night? Did I sleep talk? What happened?_

“Both of you.” Satya makes a low noise in her throat. “Are romantically interested in me. Despite the odds being so low for such an occurrence. _Both_ of you are.”

_You are babbling, stop, stop, stop!_

“Satya?”

Satya hums, opening her eyes but not quite sure how to answer Fareeha.

_There is no possible way. I am dreaming. I cannot understand, when they already have everything they need in each other. They like me but—_

“But _why_?” Satya blurts, wincing as soon as the words leave her mouth.

 _That is_ rude, _do not ask—_

“Because you're amazing?” Fareeha starts and the look on her face is nothing short of genuine confusion. “You're sweet and thoughtful and passionate about literally _everything._ Your sense of humor is incredible and you have this way of talking that makes my heart melt. At this point it would be weird without you in my life; you just _fit_ —”  
  
“And you're _always_ so incredible!” Angela cuts in, having recovered from her own shock. “Your laugh could grow flowers from asphalt. I mean it's lovely. And I love hearing you talk too! You're always wondering about something new. I love how we can go back and forth for _hours…_ You're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, not just physically though. It's just... I've always thought… I am so lucky to know Satya.”

 _I am lucky to know you both._ Satya thinks. _And I am lucky to be loved by both of you._

That's the thought that truly brings Satya to a screeching halt. She can almost feel her thoughts crashing into one another, trapped in the whirling maelstrom of her my mind.

_What do I do now? What do I say? How do I say it? What will happen—_

“Satya, if you…” Angela flutters nervously, glancing at Fareeha. “If you needed some time to process, we'll be in my office. Nothing will change on our end, we promise.”

“Yes, I—” Satya nods mechanically, swallowing hard. “A moment. Yes, I need. A moment. Several moments. I will return. After.”

With her arms still wrapped around herself, Satya turns and leaves the med bay. She makes it to her room on autopilot, having walked the route too many times to count.

Finally alone, Satya allows herself to relax her arms, grab the nearest pillow and squeal into it.

Satya tries to keep her excitement and joy contained but it doesn't exactly work.

She's _alone_.

No one is there to scold her for squealing and stomping and spinning without a ribbon. She rocks and hops and bounces aimlessly to her heart's content and when she's finally tired, she flops onto her bed to catch her breath.

Satya lays there for several moments, letting the pleasant humming feeling under her skin subside.

 _How did I get so lucky? I need-_ Satya freezes. _I ran away from them._

She reviews the conversation word by word.

_I did not actually explain how I felt, did I?_

Satya sits up all too quickly. _Should I have? I should have. That was rude. I… how do I…_

The remainder of her elation drains into a pit in her stomach, filling her with dread.

 _What did I just_ do _?_

“Athena,” Satya says, glancing up. “Is Lena on base?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Can you ask her if she minds sharing her coordinates?”

Athena flashes in acquiescence and almost immediately reads off the coordinates. Satya has a teleporter pad set up a moment later and steps through.

The grass is soft underfoot here at the south end of the watchpoint. Satya steps all the way through, a little surprised to see Winston, Brigitte, and Lena lounging on the ground. Lena sits up in surprise, brown hair even more tousled than usual from the winds.

“Lena.” Satya can't help the panic leaching into her tone. “If you have a moment?”

Quicker than Satya can track, Lena bounds to her feet and blinks to her, so close that she can count freckles on her nose.

“What's the matter, luv?” Lena smiles, but her eyes crinkle with worry. Behind her, Brigitte and Winston sit up as well, twin expressions of confusion on their faces.

Satya's words stick in her throat. _I didn't ask if she was busy._

“Do you have any chamomile in your room? We're out in the kitchen.” Satya swallows, but Lena just beams as if that's a question that requires a teleporter to ask, rather than a simple text message, as if Satya's acting normally.

_Everything is so far from normal._

_“_ Oh you bet! “ She offers her elbow to her gamely, tossing a smile back to her companions. “Be back in a bit!”

Lena allows her to step through the teleporter first, but she follows closely behind her. They arrive back in her room and for once, the space that's her own brings Satya no comfort at all.

Once Satya's closed the teleporters, she forces herself to face Lena.

“What’s the matter, Satya?” Lena rocks on her heels, all cheer replaced with fretful worry.

“I need your ears, if you could spare the time.” She takes a deep breath. “I... don't know... it's just… the other night you said—”

“And I meant it.” Lena squeezes her arm gently. “Want to go to my room so we can actually get you that cuppa? You look like you could use it.”

Satya nods, quietly following Lena down the hall to her room. It's not really a surprise that her room is, while presentable, an unorganized disaster; it always is. Lena is the type of person that Satya would strangle if they ever shared quarters. Fortunately, there's no need for that. It does remind her though—

“Lena, where _is_ your home?”

The shorter woman pauses, looking back at Satya with such open curiosity that she wonders if she's overstepped.

“I’m guessing you don't mean my address, but where I feel at home?” She flicks the electric kettle on. “Wherever Em is, honestly. If she was here, it'd be here, but obviously _that's_ not safe.”

“I cannot imagine it is.”

Lena hums, rummaging through a tin of tea bags. She gestures to the assortment of upside down mugs and Satya selects one- a plain black mug with white lettering for a British law firm.

Satya cradles it in her hands. The ceramic is cold.

_I don't know where to start._

“Water won't be ready for a while.” Lena smooths out the comforter covering the foot of her bed and sits, patting the space next to her. Satya joins her, staring at the glossy black interior of her mug. “What’s got you in a twist?”

_A twist indeed._

“Fareeha and Angela confessed to me. Romantically.” Satya can feel her ears begin to burn. “Just a little while ago.”

“Oh?” Lena sounds a little odd, so Satya looks at her. Her expression is delighted, but her smile falls upon seeing Satya's expression. “Oh no. I thought you'd be…”

“I am. I am ecstatic.” Satya winces, as her tone sounds anything but. “I only realized I was in love with them a little while ago myself. It is unheard of that my affections would for unmatched for such a short time.”

“That's a good thing, right?”

Satya grips the mug. “I hadn't enough time to consider it. I thought… I thought it would be unlikely that they would return my feelings at all. I had prepared for _that_ reality, not this one. I didn't think this would happen.”

“You were going to keep it to yourself?”

“Was that not the obvious course of action? Lena, they're _engaged!_ That's not a reasonable expectation to have.”

“Well, engaged doesn't always mean exclusive, you know?” Lena shrugs. “It sounds like they're open to having you in, but I can't speak for them.”

“Of course not and I don't expect you to.” Satya sets her empty mug aside and fiddles with a few thin strings of hard light. “But I don't doubt their sincerity.”

The kettle begins to bubble in earnest but Lena ignores it. “Then why’re you here instead of with them?”

“Because there is so much that can go wrong!” Satya blurts, her anxiety coming to a head. “I do not understand how anyone can stand the uncertainty of it all! Knowing that everything might go wrong? Wondering if maybe it is just childish infatuation and there's really nothing between you? Or realizing that in the end your ideals never aligned after all? Why would anyone advance any relationship to romance when it could end in disaster?”

The kettle clicks off, loud as a gunshot or seemingly so. Startled, Satya bites her cheek and dissolves the tangled strings in her hands.

Lena nudges her knee. “Okay first of all, none of that was about Fareeha or Angela.”

Satya blinks. “I…Oh.”

_Oh, heavens. She's right._

“They're not your exes, luv. You're projecting a bit, don't you think?” She pats her knee and takes Satya's mug to the kettle. “However you can, you need to start fresh.”

_She is not even my ex. We were never anything at all._

“You're right. I am just…” Satya takes a deep breath, beginning a new hard light construct. “Even I had only _just_ realized it.”

Lena stops pouring water into Satya's mug. “Whoa, wait, is _this_ why I got woken up at the crack of dawn on Sunday?”

“Six in the morning is _not_ the crack of dawn.”

“Is for me.” Lena giggles, then sobers. “Wow. You really panicked, didn't you? Blimey, Satya, you could have talked to me _then_.”

“I apologize. I needed to be off base. I... didn't know what else to do.” Satya buries her face in her hands. “They are so important to me. I felt like I was going to burst and I couldn't just say... But now that they have approached me, I just worry...”

_I sound just like Angela and every bit as foolish._

Lena waits for a beat before prompting: “About?”

“They're already so…”

“No. If you say perfect, I'm gonna stick my tongue to this kettle.” Lena shakes the stainless steel vessel, sloshing the boiling water around inside. Satya looks up in alarm. “Do you think Em and I are perfect?”

“I don't know.” Satya says honestly. “I've never met her.”

“She's not!” Lena cries out, throwing her hands up. “No one is! Not me, not Em, not 'Ree, not Angie and no, not you either! Satya, that's not what makes it work.”

Saty straightens up, watching Lena wave her hands animatedly and pace the room.

“It’s about making something new with each other. Trying new things and being yourselves _together_. Loving who you are and knowing someone else loves who you are just as much. You can’t start dating someone with the thought that it won't work. Or the idea that you have to be perfect before you deserve anyone else! That almost guarantees it won't work!”

“But… I want it to work.” Satya whispers. “I don't know what else I want more than this.”

Lena stops pacing and tilts her head at her. Her gaze drops to the steaming mug. She brings it over to Satya and she cradles it like a lifeline.  

“Then why are you hesitating? What's holding you back?”

_There's so much that's makes me unlovable._

“What if I am not enough?” Satya hazards a look upward at Lena, who looks devastated at her words. Hastily, she revises her question. “What if I am not what they expect?”

“Satya, you're _amazing_. You're wicked smart, funny, and sweet. Anyone would be honored to be your friend, let alone your girlfriend!”

“That's not true. My talents don't extend to such social spheres. I'm not…” Satya swallows, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “I… I am ill-suited to such pursuits. I am _lucky_ to have made friends, such as you.”

“ _Bullshit_.” Lena looks furious. “You can't really believe that. Who made you think that?”

“What? I…” The question brings a roiling uncertainty to her gut. “I am not sure what you mean.”

“Satya, you weren't born thinking you weren't good enough.” Lena sits on the floor in front of her, still brimming with energy but seemingly holding still so Satya can focus. “Where did that come from?”

Through the steam, Satya stares at her own reflection in the tea. It stares back at her, accusatory. Lena's pleading is uncomfortable, but Satya thinks back anyway.

One incident comes to mind.

_Satya had clearly been presented with several suitors after that developer meeting. She'd dismissed them, not unkindly but not leaving any room for discussion. Her handler and manager had both laughed at her afterward, after all the men had left the room, discouraged._

_“Incredible. You're truly too busy for love, Satya. It's a good thing; that's one less distraction.”_

_“Well, it's for the best. Those with such eccentricities as hers never find love anyway.”_

_“You'd have to fix those before we were ever to approve a husband. And that will clearly never happen, so it can't be helped.”_

_“But Vishkar will always have a place for you. They call you the Gem of Vishkar, and it's quite true. If you never marry, that will be more than acceptable. Those who marry can hardly claim they're truly dedicated to our cause after all.”_

_“We'd rather have your eccentricities than your disloyalty after all.”_

_That was the trade off, always had been: her loyalty absolute, her eccentricities private._

_They'd chuckled, smiling and congratulating her on another development presentation well done. They'd shipped her out to Peru shortly after to implement it._

_Twenty-one with only Vishkar in mind._

Satya grips the mug tighter.

_Now, twenty-nine and free with Vishkar still in mind._

Satya looks up shyly. “Certainly not from Fareeha and Angela or anyone here. And not from myself, not truly, but I'm still… healing…”

“ _Everyone_ is, Satya. And if you think you're not ready, that's okay. But I wouldn't make assumptions on their part.”

She hums, thinking of something to say but nothing that comes to mind seems adequate.

“And the thing is, the people that love you always seem to love the parts of ourselves that we're insecure about. Or sometimes the parts we don't notice.”

 _Like the way Fareeha snorts when something really funny happens? Or the way that Angela fidgets when she's excited?  There's just so much that I… love…_ _about them… even the little things..._

Satya frowns, flushing at her own thoughts. “I thought it was considered inappropriate to use the “L word” with new relationships?”

“What? Lesbian?” Lena snorts when Satya nudges her playfully. “Sorry, couldn't resist. I mean maybe for some people? It depends. But that's the funny thing about relationships! It's about the people in them, not the people outside of them. Whatever works for the three of you is what matters.”

“I wasn't expecting a romantic relationship.” Satya murmurs. “We've always been close. But we've been closer lately and I… I didn't realize how much that meant to me until it was gone.”

“Yeah?” Lena's back to grinning again. “Do tell.”

Satya ducks her head and finally takes a sip of her tea. It's stronger than she'd like for chamomile but she drains half the mug, hoping its calming effect might work faster.

“I don't know what to say.” She slides off the bed and joins Lena on the floor, for once not caring too much that she’s sitting directly on it. “Angela asked if I needed a moment and I did. I was caught off guard, but now...”

“You're not sure how to go back to them?”

“What if they thought that I didn't want...” Satya trails off in horror, unable to voice her thoughts.

_What if I ruined it before it even started?_

“Hey, can I tell you a secret?” Lena waits until Satya nods before she continues, “The best thing about Em and me? Is that we talk _constantly._ About everything. Whether something goes wrong or right, we _talk.”_

“I am sure that will not be as odd as ever. _My deepest apologies for running away_.” Satya rolls her eyes. “ _I was too excited and could not figure out how to properly express it._ That is an entirely reasonable thing to say.”

Lena just raises an eyebrow.

“You cannot _possibly_ expect me to say that.”

Lena raises both eyebrows.

“That is absurd!”

Lena wiggles her eyebrows, grinning smugly. Satya shoves her lightly and she falls over, laughing.

“Lena, be serious!”

“I am! I am!” Lena doesn't sober in the slightest. “You're so honest. Just tell them the truth. That's what works the best.”

_The truth…_

“They… were honest with me.” Satya says quietly, thinking back to Fareeha and Angela's postures and tones- both nervous and earnest at once.

_‘We'll be in my office.’_

“I need to go.” Satya quickly drains the last of her tea, frowning when the tea bag hits her lip. She stands and helps Lena up as well.

“Ready then?” Lena takes the mug from her.

Satya shakes her head. “In many ways, no, but I’m going anyway.” She takes one step toward the door, then stops.

Lena squeaks when Satya turns and hugs her tightly, trying to convey her gratitude into one squeeze. Never one to reject a hug as long as she's known her, Lena returns the gesture just as tightly.

“Thank you.” Satya pauses, pulls back, then hugs her again. “Really, thank you, Lena.”

“Happy to help, luv. Now _go_!”

 _Does it matter how I get there?_ Satya wonders, stepping outside Lena's room. In the end, she does settle for an outside route, running from the closest exit to the one nearest the med bay.

_I have so much to tell them._

_First of all, yes._

Once inside again, she catches her breath, inhaling the faint antiseptic scents of the med bay. Angela's office door is closed, but the light is on.

“Athena?”

“The office door has been left unlocked for you, Ms. Vaswani.”

She blinks. “Thank you?”

“They are waiting for you, as promised.” Athena flashes her soft blue sensors at her. “If it is not too odd of me, might I wish you luck?”

Satya begins to cross the med bay floor, butterflies rising in her stomach. “That's fine, Athena.”

“Good luck, Ms. Vaswani. I forsee everything going well.”

Satya grips the door handle and whispers, “Thank you, Athena.”

She turns the handle and steps inside the office.

The first thing she notices is Fareeha tucked into Angela's wing. They're both sitting in Angela's swing, nestled into each other's space. It's not designed to hold two people but they seem to be managing.

The second thing she notices is how _small_ and _sad_ they look, curled up and holding hands, focused on the video playing on Angela's holo-screen.

“I’m back.” Satya whispers, voice cracking. They both look up in surprise.

The change in their demeanors is instantaneous. Fareeha lights up, a wide smile breaking the storm clouds of her expression. Angela flares her wings, making an almost-movement to jump out of the swing.

But then they freeze, expectant, clearly realizing that Satya's mere presence does not mean yes automatically.

Satya clears her throat nervously. “So, yes. Yes is my answer. I would love to date you. ”

Fareeha makes a strangled squeaking noise, trying and failing to cover it up with a cough. Angela stares wide-eyed at her, her smile growing.

“Really?”

“Is that a surprise?” Satya raises an eyebrow, before realizing maybe her dry humor isn't the most called for. Angela frowns slightly, so Satya hurries on. “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to think it would have been otherwise. I had just barely come to terms with the idea that my affections toward the both of you would be better kept secret and likely never returned. Suffice to say I was a bit shocked that the feeling was mutual. I got a bit overexcited. And then nervous. And panicked.”

“Oh Saty, you were just going to let yourself pine away?” Fareeha hops out of the swing, bringing Angela along with her. Fareeha sounds so horrified at the idea that Satya feels bad. “How long have you been holding that in?”

“It had only been two days. I don't know what might have happened if it had gone on longer.”

“Two days ago?” Angela frowns, then gapes when it dawns on her. “Is _that_ why you were all the way in Belarus?”

“I _panicked_.” Satya hugs herself and sways a bit, embarrassed. “Just a bit. I didn't expect this from me _or_ from you.”

Angela hums and gestures oddly. Satya tilts her head. “Sorry, can I hug you?” She repeats the gesture, tapping her palms together.

Satya nods and Angela responds with a hug so tight that Satya has to be careful to breathe properly. Fareeha joins in and Satya sighs contentedly, soothed by their embrace.

“Satya…” Angela murmurs. “Did you go to Belarus because I...”

She flaps her wings and Satya giggles.

“Displayed to me? It was only after that when I realized I had feelings for you as well as Fareeha, so yes, I would list that as a catalyst.”

“But Satya!” Angela sounds terribly distraught. She pulls back from their hug to look at her. “Didn't you know what that _meant_?”

“You didn't do it on purpose.” Satya shrugs, face heating up with embarrassment, especially as Fareeha begins cackling. “I thought… I convinced myself it must have been the result of some thought toward Fareeha. I…”

“Wait, you _noticed_ Ange flirting with _you_ and you thought it was because of _me_?”

Satya whirls around to glare at Fareeha. “ _Obviously_ that was a more logical explanation-”

“Despite knowing all you know about her wings-”

Satya makes a face. “ _Listen-_ ”

Fareeha, completely unaffected by Satya’s expression, keeps chuckling. “You didn’t think it was possible. Oh, _Saty_!”

“Well, excuse me for not assuming that was the most sensible explanation!” She sniffs haughtily, ignoring Fareeha’s riotous laughter. “I find it odd that you would tease _me_ when you are the one who has been unknowingly flirting with me for weeks.”

“That’s rich coming from the person who obviously thought her flirting was just her being friendly.” Angela giggles when Satya glares at her, raising her hands apologetically. “Although, Fareeha might just be a bit bad at it. I never realized until she spelled it out for me.”

“Nope, you’re both oblivious. Absolutely hopeless. It’s a wonder we figured this out at all!”

Satya grumbles, unable to argue with that. Her heart flutters though, as she shifts from foot to foot. One thing has yet to be addressed. “So...what changes?”

Angela blinks owlishly, sharing a glance with Fareeha. “I suppose a lot of that is up to you. What do you _want_ to change?”

“I want this experiment to be completely over.” Satya says quietly, unable to look Angela in the eye.

“I agree. It’s been agonizing on all ends. Perhaps we can try again, with better parameters. And honest intentions.” Angela nods with conviction, taking Satya’s hand. “That was my very dumb way of panicking over my feelings for you.”

“Please don’t do that ever again,” Fareeha pipes up. Satya laughs.

“Yes, please don’t. I prefer for you to not go where I can’t follow.” Satya swallows nervously, blush rising as Angela giggles shyly, wings fluttering. _Did I just say that?_  “I don’t know what else I want. That’s… all I had for now.”

“You know, I was thinking: is it possible that things have already changed and we just hadn’t put a name to it?” Fareeha takes her other hand as Satya nods.

“Oh! Perhaps can we… I… would like to be your girlfriend-” Satya ducks her head, embarrassed at how their eyes light up at the ‘g’ word. “-but if we might have a day or two before we use that word outside of… us?”

_Us._

“Of course!” Angela puffs up indignantly. “It’s no one’s business but ours!”

“Um…” Fareeha shuffles her feet, but doesn’t let go of either of their hands. “One exception might be my mom…”

 _‘Pe_ _rhaps, but at least one of you needed to learn…’_ Satya recalls Ana's words to her the other morning. _At the time,_ what _we needed to learn seemed to be a skill. It seems she was referring to a truth..._

“Oh, heavens. No, she already knows,” mutters Satya, staring at the floor tiles. “She may have known for far longer than we did.”

Angela sputters. Fareeha actually lets go of their hands to bury her face in her own.

“I guess she didn’t think to just _tell us.”_ Fareeha groans. “I'm sure she's convinced it'll be a funny story for her grandchildren. _”_

“Come to think of it, she does treat you like her daughter-in-law already.”

 _Has Ana assumed that this will work? How can she be so sure?_ Satya swallows nervously, staring at them both who say this with no more pomp or circumstance than announcing the weather.  Fareeha comes to the rescue, batting gently at Angela’s closest wing and reaching out to reassure Satya. Angela slaps her free hand over her mouth, having realized her mistake.

“Okay, woah, pause. Saty, mom literally has always called all my partners in-laws. Like forever. Since I was a teenager.” Fareeha waves her hands. “And the grandchildren thing? She’s _really_ obnoxious about it. Don’t let that scare you.”

 _Stop daydreaming, Vaswani._ Satya lets Fareeha’s words wash over her, then takes a deep breath. “Yes, of course.”

“Cool. Can I ask a question?” Fareeha pauses. “And you can always say no if you want, that’s rule number one of Us.”

Satya can't help but be relieved that there's rules and expectations. “Of course.”

“Rule two is have fun, naturally. So, do you want to have a sleepover?”

Satya tilts her head, not expecting such a question. “Tonight?”

“Yeah, just to hang out with each other. It could be fun! We can play games and gossip-”

“And cuddle?” Satya blurts, suddenly realizing that she wants to do that very much immediately.

“Yes please!” Angela takes Satya’s hand in both of hers, eyes shining with delight. “And watch movies and eat snacks and _cuddle_!”

“I’d like that.” Satya squeaks, surprised at how much their enthusiasm warms her heart. “I'd like that more than anything.”

“We could even order dinner if you want. Make an afternoon of it.” Fareeha grins, pulling out her phone. “That way we don't have to deal with the team at all.”

 _That's a blessing._ Satya nods. Fareeha sinks to the floor and starts reading off restaurants that are open for delivery now. Angela grabs one of  her office chairs and sits backward in it. Satya makes a stool for herself and sits on it, adjusting it until she's perched at a middle height between the two of them.

Eventually she summons her tablet again, if only so they can see better pictures of the food they're ordering. They sit there, chatting over food and eventually movies. Nothing has changed, except for perhaps the way they brush their fingers over hers when passing the tablet around.

When Fareeha makes the call to their restaurant of choice— a restaurant called _Zero to Gyro_ that she insisted on calling herself to compliment the owners on the pun— to give their orders, the conversation lulls.

Satya glances shyly at Angela as she reaches out. Satya scoots her stool closer, adjusting her height until she's more on level with her. Angela slips her hand into hers.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“Not everyone likes holding hands.” Angela adjusts her hand until they're palm to palm, tracking the movement with her eyes as she speaks, “You know, I used your hand to get us all into your room last night.”

“That explains that.”

“Apparently it's on tape.”

Satya grins. “Athena is... nosey.”

“Omniscient,” the A.I. chimes in lightly. “My surveillance protocols require 24/7 monitoring of public spaces.”

Still on the phone, Fareeha glares up at the A.I.'s speaker housing and scrambles up and to the other side of the office.

Angela rolls her eyes. “ _Fine._ ”

“She's a friend. A nosey one, but still.” Satya stares at their joined hands- porcelain and ebony against sun-warmed alabaster. Athena flashes her lights once and goes dark.

“You're very warm,” Angela whispers, also transfixed by their connection.

Satya snorts. “There's a hard light well in my palm.”

“No I mean, you're _warm_. Not temperature. Personality.” Angela seems to hesitate. “Media always makes us seem colder. When I first met you, I wondered if any of it was true.”

_‘They call you the Gem of Vishkar.’_

“That was a very long time ago.” Satya thinks back to their first meeting- an intake exam in the adjacent room with the third person she'd spoken with since her defection: the famous prodigal nanosurgeon. Soft hands and even softer words— She shakes her head, unwilling to revisit such a vulnerable moment. “And Vishkar is a very cold place.”

Satya takes Angela's other hand.

“It didn't suit you.”

“No,” Satya murmurs, her breath hitching in her throat. “It did not.”

“I'm glad.” Angela is visibly flushed now. She squeezes both hands. “Is it okay that we have rules? There's only a few.”

“Yes. I appreciate them. Rule one is especially reassuring.”

“Mm, yes, I agree.” Angela nibbles at her lip. “Remember it for me? I'm about to ask you a question.”

Satya can already feel her ears heating up but she nods.

“Can I kiss you?”

_And there goes the rest of my brain._

“Yes?” Satya takes a deep breath, wincing internally at the tremor in her voice. “Yes, of course.”

“I mean, _may_ I? Am I _allowed_? Is that okay with _you_?” Angela's quiet bravado has dropped into her more usual flustered manner. “Like right now? I just want to make sure-”

Satya drops her hands and takes Angela’s face in both of hers. The winged woman squeaks and falls silent as Satya searches her wide eyes.

“I said yes. Twice.” She leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Angela flutters, creating a small breeze. She can detect the slightest hint of cherry chapstick as she breathes in and pulls back. The kiss lasts for only a moment but it feels like an eternity.

Angela looks like she might pass out from sheer…. surprise? Delight? Astonishment? It’s hard for Satya to tell.

_I think I want to do that again._

A shutter clicks.

The sound pops their bubble. Angela and Satya snap to attention, glaring at Fareeha as she chuckles. “That’s _so_ gay.”

Satya's reaction is to wonder when she'd gotten off the phone with the restaurant.

 _Angela’s_ reaction is instantaneous. Springing off her chair with a flap of her wings, she _launches_ herself at Fareeha, yelling: “Fareeha Amari, you delete that _right this instant!”_

Fareeha ducks and hits the floor, landing with a whoosh of breath and giggles as Angela tries in vain to grab the phone.

“Saty!”

She turns just in time to see Fareeha gesture before actually throwing the phone. She catches it and sure enough, there is a series of pictures: from the moment Angela started babbling, to Satya cupping her face in her hands, to the kiss itself, to the outrage on Angela’s face just before she flew for the phone.

The wrestling has paused; clearly Fareeha bargained on Angela not being as willing to flying-tackle their new girlfriend.

I’m _their girlfriend now… their girlfriend..._

“These _are_ very cute.” Satya pauses on the one of Angela and her staring wide-eyed. The expression is familiar. She giggles. “Angela, is this what you were thinking the other morning? When you were staring at my lips?”

Fareeha bursts into laughter, hooking an arm around Angela’s waist and pinning her to the floor. “You’re _hopeless!”_

“I was tired! I got lost in my thoughts!”

“How could you have thought explicitly about kissing her and yet not have noticed your wings-”

“I’m _dumb_ , okay?” Angela wails in frustration. “Leave me alone; neither of you have stones to throw!”

“Angela?” Satya crouches next to Angela and kisses her forehead, just as softly as before. She blinks up at her, confused. “Fareeha captured a very important moment in our relationship. I think that was very nice of her.”

“Well yes-” She takes the phone as Satya passes it over. “Oh, these are _adorable…_ ”

Fareeha sits up, pulling Angela with her. They watch Angela look through the photos.

“Faree?”

Fareeha’s smile is startled but pleased, perhaps on account of the nickname. “Huh?”

“May I kiss _you?”_

 _“_ Aw, Saty, you don’t have to just because-”

“ _Fareeha,_ I’ve known I’ve wanted to kiss you for _at least_ two days.” Satya smiles. “Be rest assured I want to and answer only for yourself.”

“Oh.” The startled smile that spreads across Fareeha's face could power several solar farms. “Well then, _yes_ -”

Satya gets to her knees and kisses her, keeping one hand on her shoulder for balance so she doesn't drag her down. It takes a bit to account for their difference in height, but Satya is a quick study; she has observed plenty of kisses between her girlfriends before. Fareeha melts against her and when she pulls away, Satya is surprised at how absolutely flushed she is.

“You two are absolutely adorable.” Angela taps the phone once; Fareeha gapes at her.

“ _No,_ you didn’t-”

“No, I didn’t take pictures.” Angela pauses, peeking over the phone. Then she sing-songs, “I took a _video.”_

“And the three of us,” Satya says, rolling her eyes at Fareeha’s shocked expression. “Are _perfectly and absolutely_ clueless.”

“I prefer the term romantically challenged.” Fareeha pipes up, recovering and making a grabby hand for her phone, but Angela rolls and hides on the other side of Satya.

“Satya, can we-?” Angela giggles, holding the phone out in front of them. The gimmick isn’t much of a gimmick the third time around but Satya plays along anyway.

“Yes, of course.”

Fareeha and Angela lean in close and kiss both her cheeks. It’s overwhelming, in a pleasant way and she hums happily, even as she flushes.

_We’ll take this one day, and one or two kisses, at a time…_

* * *

_Contact information for Angela Ziegler has been updated._

_Contact information for Fareeha Amari has been updated._

_You have added Angela and Faree to the group text._

**Angela, Faree**

_it's a sleepover. that does mean pajamas, right?_ **2:47 pm**

 **2:48 pm** _yep!!!_

 **2:48 pm** _doesn't have to be anything fancy. :,p_

 **2:50 pm** _‘Reeha usually sleeps in sweatpants and a t-shirt._

 **2:50 pm** _I prefer racerback tanks, for obvious reasons._

 **_2:51 pm_ ** _Dinner's on its way now too._

 _and you’re sure it’s not too early for you?_ **2:52 pm**

 **2:53 pm** _nah, we skipped lunch_

 **2:53pm** _to talk about a special someone… ;,)_

 _impractical… but endearing._ **2:54 pm**

 **2:55 pm** _And to be fair, we had to clean first too!_

 _do you mind if i bring my blankets?_ **2:55 pm**

 **2:56 pm** _The more the merrier._

 **2:56 pm** _we could aim 4 a blanket nest?_

 _...i’ll bring a few pillows as well._ **2:57 pm**

 **2:57 pm** _Wonderful!_

Satya sets her phone aside and regards her closet. A blanket nest implies that they'll be plenty warm.

She picks out a soft blue blouse and loose dark blue pants that are tight around the ankles. She steps into the shower, washes quickly, and emerges from the cloud of steam. With quick, practiced movements, she performs most of her nightly routine, even though she puts on her hard light prosthetic instead of her cosmetic one.

 _I am not going to sleep_ yet. _I may need it._

Satya gathers her two heaviest blankets and a pair of pillows, then realizes she'll have to go into the hallway to get to Fareeha's room. The thought does not please her.

**Angela, Faree**

_may i come over now?_ **3:28pm**

 **3:28 pm** _sure, food's not here yet though_

 _but you are_ **3:29pm**

 _would you mind if I used a teleport?_ **3:29pm**

 **3:31pm** _nope, not at all_

Satya creates a teleporter on her own door, calculating how far away Fareeha's door is- two doors down and across the hall. It's a simple bit of maths and soon, the exit portal is on the inside surface of Fareeha's door.

She pokes her head through. “Would you mind taking the blankets?”

They’re both standing a little awkwardly in the room, clearly unsure where the teleporter would manifest. Fareeha jogs over and grabs them, setting them on the beds behind her. Being that it's a wall portal, it is rather higher up than usual. Satya leans through, bracing herself on the wall, only for Angela to take her hand and help her as she climbs through. Satya grabs the pillows, then dismisses the teleporters with a wave of her hand.

“Hi,” Satya hugs her pillows, suddenly shy.

“Hey,” Fareeha grins.

“Uh, is it too much?” Angela wrings her hands together, looking over the room. Satya actually looks for the first time too.

The room is near immaculate but not immediately different. The two beds take up most of the room, pushed together and treated as one. The beginning of the blanket nest have begun, with a carefully arranged oval of blankets, pillows, and one enormous teddy bear. Both of the bedside lamps are on, plus Fareeha's reading lamp in her library nook. A holo projector sits balanced on a book at the end of the bed, not projecting, but still whirring gently in preparation for use. There's a small collection of card and board games on one bedside table and a collection of nail polish on the other. Satya can't quite tell where the music is coming from, but it's something akin to pop rock.

Fareeha and Angela are dressed casually, as promised: tank tops, tee-shirts and sweats. A closer look at Angela's pants reveal that they're actually Fareeha's, unless Angela worked for Helix once.

“No, it's wonderful. I love it.” The last of Satya's anxiety melts away with the smiles on their faces.

While Angela adds the blankets and pillows to the nest, Fareeha leads Satya around the room pointing out the different options that they have for the night. Satya has only begun to inspect the nail polishes when Fareeha’s phone rings. She’s off like a shot to get the food, so Angela and Satya make themselves comfortable on the bed.

A simple table allows them all to eat comfortably on the bed. Fareeha queues up a few episodes of an old show called _Modern Marvels_ and they spend the next hour eating and discussing the engineering feats of the early century.

“How many points do you think that's worth?” Fareeha wonders after one of the show hosts uses the word _gargantuan_ in a sentence. That's how they end up watching one of Satya's favorite nature documentaries- a wordless one, to be fair- and playing Scrabble.

Fareeha, though she's well-versed in academia, can't quite keep up with Angela and Satya's everyday knowledge of high-powered jargon, so they take turns partnering with her after the first few rounds.

When the documentary is over, Angela picks a movie and a nail polish color. They do each other’s nails- all of Angela's and Satya's and just Fareeha's toe nails. Satya is surprised to find the polish is scented, without the usual gross smell of ethyl acetate. Angela notices her sniffing the air and remarks, “I hate the smell, so I always get the scented ones.”

“I'll be replacing my nail polishes immediately.”

The nail painting ruins the cuddle pile they've had going but once all the top coats are applied and dried, Satya dissipates the table and lays her head in Fareeha's lap again and Angela curls up around Satya.

They talk.

They talk about silly things- if they want to watch a bad horror movie next and rip it apart- and serious things- like how they are all feeling.

_Warm. Safe. Emotionally unconstipated._

They play a game called 20 Questions- a mental I Spy game and one called Would You Rather- a version that Fareeha specifies is mostly a romance edition. Satya learns much about herself and the both of them.

Angela would rather be kissed than hugged, usually.

Fareeha likes both but loves hugs.

Satya prefers tight hugs all the time but shyly points out that she might need a larger sample size before she makes that call on kissing. She's immediately given two more samples for her consideration.

Angela would rather be able to shapeshift than turn invisible.

Fareeha would rather explore space than the ocean.

Satya would rather never wear shoes again than never wear a coat again.

Sometimes the questions are simple and silly and sometimes… they are not.

Angela would rather go somewhere quiet than loud.

Fareeha would rather stay in than travel.

Satya would rather make a gift than buy one.

Angela would rather be loved and penniless than rich and loveless- and would choose love over money, even though she currently has both.

Fareeha would rather spend each year apart and have one day together than spend a year together and never see them again.

Satya would rather be able to remember the sound of their voices but forget their faces than the opposite.

The evening passes far too quickly in this pleasant manner and Satya finds herself yawning before long.

It starts a chain reaction. Satya giggles, watching Angela lose a fight with a huge yawn.

“It might be time to sleep?”

“'Reeha, it's not that…” Angela trails off as Fareeha shows her the time on her phone. “Oh. That's later than I thought.”

“If we're to sleep, I need to run back to my room for a moment.” Satya gently extracts herself from Fareeha's embrace and scoots to the edge of the bed. Angela _whines._ Startled, Satya adds, “I'll be right back, I promise.”

It's perhaps a needless bit of showing off, but Satya makes a teleportation portal on the floor beneath her feet and slides into it as if it were a hot tub. She lands just inside her room, upright once more. She dissipates the portals, switches her arms and, after checking the hallways for bystanders, scurries back to Fareeha's room.

The door slides open for her. Angela perks up with a sleepy “You're back!”

“Of course?”

Fareeha smooths her hair down and kisses Angela's forehead. “She was very upset that you'd gone. For two whole minutes.”

“It felt longer!” Angela protests, hiding her face behind Fareeha.

Satya climbs into bed again, resuming her spot next to Fareeha.

Angela mumbles something that they can't understand.

“What was that, Angela?”

“I know, I _know_ it's my fault that I haven't had much time with you lately but… can we… can I—”

“I can sleep in the middle, if you would like?” Satya rolls over and sits up. Angela nods, terribly shy but her eyes shine with longing.

Fareeha chuckles, shuffling over and making room for Satya to climb over and settle in.

“There's 6 possible orders, more if you factor in positioning,” Satya pulls the covers up around them once more. Immediately Angela snuggles close, draping one arm over Satya.

Fareeha does the same on the other side, tangling their hands together. “We have all the time in the world to try them.”

A word to Athena and lights shut off, leaving them in darkness. A round of good nights is said, then all is quiet.

 _Perhaps I should bring my white noise next time._ Satya wonders, laying awake and listening to her girlfriends’ breathing slow and deepen. If she concentrates, she actually _can_ hear the ocean waves out the window as well.

“I… I didn't think I'd ever have this…” Satya whispers, if only to admit it to herself. Angela stirs, shifting a wing to cover her a bit.

“Surprise,” Angela whispers back as Fareeha lets out the smallest huff of laughter.

_A lovely surprise indeed._

And with that thought warming her heart, Satya finally drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end art is by [hanghr](hanghr.tumblr.com) !!!! whose commissions are open!  
> i hope y'all're enjoying your voyage on the s.s. sympharmercy. we've only just set sail, but we've got plenty of seas to explore ahead! right after... i... take a nap....
> 
>  
> 
> _if you'd to like watch me yell about headcanons for the Girls™ im on twitter @kinaesthetique_

**Author's Note:**

> This will be updating one chapter at a time, typically between Friday and Sunday! Anyone who catches me posting more than one at a time is welcome to come to my house and put salt in my coffee.  
> 


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